Shattered Glass
by xXSimplySunshineXx
Summary: They say you never leave something forgotten. They say, it comes back to haunt you. But what if that problem was a lunatic out for revenge; what happens then? Do you stand and fight back, or will the suppressing darkness that lurks within the shadows destroy your soul? The desire to survive won't help you forever, and eventually, all that will remain, is shattered glass.
1. Chapter 1: The Problem Appears

_**Author's **_**_Note:_**_Hi again! Guess who made me publish this? Yep, my dear friend 'Sarah' has requested everything I wrote in this story. So, before you come after me with pitchforks and torches remember that! She loves this pairing, so being the good friend that I am I wrote it for her..._

* * *

Whitney Stane never believed in love until six months ago...

Romeo and Juliet. That's what she called it. Just like the love story they were reading in Drama class. Two people desperately in love, but they can never tell a single soul because of the consequences that might ensue, that's what they were. Except without all the dying, they both pray-_very hard_-that nothing like that ever happens.

But love stories like that always come with a price, you can't tell a single person about the one you love. Which can prove very difficult if you're a girl who loves someone with every each of her soul, and of course she loved Tony with every fiber of her being. It was hard for her to keep herself from expressing her feelings to the entire world. A little jar stood on her dresser for that one purpose. She would write letters, not naming him of course, confessing everything she's always wanted to say, and it was getting rather full.

Whitney thought she was just acting like a spoiled brat again for wanting to go against Tony's wishes and announce their relationship together. She didn't want that, she didn't want to make him upset, she didn't want to lose him. Not now, not ever. She just wanted everyone to know how she was feeling, she was so wonderfully happy. Beautifully, exquisitely, perfectly happy. She's never felt like this, she's never felt so, so, perfect. Her mother never cared about her, that's why her mother left. Leaving her to be insulted every waking moment by her father. It was like her own mother, who gave birth to her, wanted her to suffer the way she has been all her life.

There was one night when she finally snapped, something inside her broke into tiny shards. Thrusting her back into the twisted reality she was in. Then, she just collapsed on the tile in her bathroom, and cried. Cried until her head throbbed like it was being pounded on the inside with a hammer. She changed after that night for the better, she didn't vie for attention anymore, she didn't care if anyone noticed her anymore. Even if her earthly father hated her to the ends of the earth, there was a Heavenly Father who loved her until the far edges of the vast universe. She swore to never forget that.

But now, she couldn't hold it in anymore, Whitney wanted everyone to know how she felt. How she's been feeling ever since she met Tony, ever since that first day. That first magical day when she was only five, when Maria took her over to their house to play with him. And that's how their argument started, but that wasn't what it was now. She was scared now, scared that he didn't want anyone to know that they had been secretly dating for almost six months now because she wasn't good enough for him. Or something like that.

_But she was wrong..._

"You don't care anymore! Is that it?" Whitney's voice was loud enough for someone to hear, but she didn't care. She didn't care if the entire forest knew of their hiding place away from the world. That little spot they found when they were kids, the little spot where they first shared their secrets, the spot where they would share their ideas...the little spot where they shared their first kiss.

"No, that's never been-" Tony was trying to keep his voice calm, and quiet. He wanted her to just calm down, and talk with him about it. Like they always did when they were hurting about something. But he didn't understand, for once, what she was so...mad about. And that was his first mistake. He just didn't understand, he tried to, he really did! But Whitney's mind could just be so complex sometimes.

"Then what-what is it then, is it me, are you tired of me?"

"No! Of course not, its-"

"Am I not good enough? I can change, I swear! I did it once, I can do it again!" Her eyes were leaking the tears she fought so desperately to hold back, she just didn't have the strength to fight them anymore. Tony just had to love her, he had to!

"No, sweetie, no." He tried to calm her down, he placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly slid them down to her back, and pulled her closer to him. Luckily she accepted his comforting movements, and laid her head into his shoulder. Tony began to gently run his hands through her hair soothingly. It always helped her calm down, he watched his mom do it to her when they were little, right after her mother filed for divorce.

I-I'm...I just don't want, I don't want you to..." He took a deep breath, and tried to explain. This wasn't going to be easy. What he was about to say would bring back memories. Memories that weren't very pleasant to bring back.

"Do you remember the day you told me about that fight with your dad?" He started, still soothing her.

He could tell that she had tensed up when he mention her father. It made him sick, _he_ made him sick, it was like the idiot was completely blind! Couldn't he see the pain he was causing his own _daughter_? Oh, right. 'Cause he didn't care if he made her avoid him like the plague. Heck, that was probably what that sorry-excuse-for-a-human-being wanted!

Tony could see it all again. The day she showed up on his doorstep, the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks, the shaking sobs that wrecked her tired body, the purple bruise around her wrist, and the strange red spot on her cheek. It made him sick. Like he wanted to go over there and pummel the living daylights out of him. Not like he didn't deserve it...

He felt her head slowly depart from his shoulder to look at his eyes.

Whitney gave her head a slight nod, "You were the only one who would listen to me. I mean, besides Pep, I was too afraid to tell her." Pepper was always there for her. She knew that, heck, Pepper made sure she knew it everyday!

The very next day after everything changed, Whitney made sure she apologized to every single person she's ever hurt. Ever. She was deeply depressed at how long the list was, she had no idea she used to be so...oh, there was no use dwelling on the past. She changed that's what mattered.

Well, apologizing to absolutely _everyone_ wasn't _entirely_ possible considering that she hadn't seen her mother since she was seven. But she was fine with that most days. She really didn't care about her mother when she left. All she would do is fight with her dad, and make her miserable. And besides, it meant Whitney could spend more time with Maria, and Tony. Maria always took care of her, like a real mother, and Tony became somewhat of a big brother to Whitney. Always protecting her from anyone, even that crazy boy who tried to kiss her that one time. Of course Tony punched him in the jaw, then she pushed him in the lake, and then Maria punished them both. But it was definitely worth it.

She made sure to apologize to Pepper more, the way Whitney treated her was un-called for. It was rather vile now that she knew what she had done. She was just so jealous of her, Pepper had everything she had always wanted, a family who actually cared if she cried herself to sleep, friends who were always there for her...and she had Tony...

But now, they were like sisters. Exactly like sisters. Yet she couldn't tell her about the horrible things she was going through with her father. The one person who was supposed to protect her no matter what, was hurting her both emotionally, and physically.

"It's not that I don't love you, in fact, far from it. I just don't want him, or anyone, to hurt you like that again. I'm worried about what people, media, our friends," Tony had no idea what Rhodey, and Pepper would think if they found out they had been meeting each other at night, especially in secret. Oh, good Lord, who knows what fun the media would have with this! It made him shudder just to think about it. "Your father..." That's what scared him the most. He was so worried about her, what that man might do to her, ever since she told him. She was so pale, and scared. Scared of consequences...

He noticed the sudden light in her eyes. She understood!

"I don't care, I don't care what anyone thinks. I love you, you love me, and that's all that matters. But if you want to keep meeting like this, it's fine, really it is, I'm just so...proud, and honored to be yours that I want everyone to know," Whitney let out a light giggle, he loved her, he still did! "It's strange, sure, but it's the truth. I'm so beautifully, blindingly, happy that I want everyone to know how delirious I am." She told him, finally!

"Really?"

"Really. I love everything about you, and in all honesty, I don't know why you stay with me."

"Isn't it obvious?" Tony pulled her down to sit beside him, the light that had appeared into her eyes made them sparkle.

"Hmm, I think this is proof that love is blind,"

He raised an eyebrow, her cryptograms were something he never understood about her. Ever since they were little, she's always used her vast knowledge of fairy tales, astronomy, and literature as a code against him. And he wasn't talking about the cipher they created together when they were six. "It's the only explanation, right?"

"You keep thinking that."

"You know, we switch between moods, have you noticed? I mean, we go from argumentative to all lovey-dovey, to-whatever."

It's true, they did. They always had rapid mood swings when they fought.

"Yeah, I noticed that. Is it because we've known each other for so long?"

"Dunno, I hope not. If you do end up proposing to me, and we get married, it's probably going to be ten times worse than this."

"You want me to propose to you?"

"J-just you-you know, j-j-just p-putting it out there, i-ignore me if you want, I d-d-don't care."

"Aw, you're cute when you stutter."

"Flirt."

"Just sayin' "

"And I'm just sayin' "

"You love it though."

"Again with the flirting."

"Sorry."

"Uh-huh, sure. Hey, do you still want to talk about the thing-that-shall-not-be-named-due-to-its-sensitivity?"

She was talking about their relationship problem. The problem being if they were going to announce their relationship. Formally, just to Pepper, and Rhodey, their familes (incuding Whitney's father). It was turning into a devastating probem in their relationship.

"What do you want to do about it?" Tony sighed, he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Sure, he can always trust his friends. Come on, they kept his secret, right?

"Whatever. I'm fine if you want to keep everything the way it is, announce it, or just tell Pepper and Rhodey. I'm sure they can keep us a secret."

"No doubt about it..."

Of course they would keep it between them, but there was the slight _other_ problem. What were they going to say?

Whitney just looked at Tony. He had his head down, thinking. Being so close to him made her heart stop, he was just so wonderful. He was caring, and kind, maybe a little over-protective, but that was okay. Her mind flashed back to all the memories they shared together, good, bad, and everything that he ever did for her. She would never be able to fully express her thankfulness towards him, no matter how hard she wanted to, it would never come out the way she planned. But she did it anyway.

"Thank you. For everything you've ever done for me, Tony, thank you." Whitney lightly pecked his cheek, and leaned her head into the crook of his neck

A small blush, accomanied by a smile crept up on Tony's face.

"You're welcome." He draped his arm over her shoulder, and gently nudged her closer. He heard a barely audible sigh from the girl sitting next to him.

"What time is it?" She asked, hoping that they could spend just a little more time together before her dad got home. Before she would have to face his many insults.

"Around eight."

Snap, she was going to be late.

Whitney let out yet another sigh, "Sorry, but I've gotta go now."

"Yeah, I know."

"Tomorrow, during lunch, do you want them to know?"

Tony nodded, they were going to find out sooner or later anyway. He was surprised they haven't found out already!

"Okay...bye."

She moved to get up, when he tugged her gently back down so she sat in his lap. Whitney rolled her eyes, but on the inside, she couldn't stop smiling. "What?"

"I love you." Tony smiled at her with his arms around her waist, he lifted a hand to lightly cup her cheek.

"I love you too." She smiled back, letting out the overwhelming feeling of happiness inside her. He moved the hand on her cheek to the back of her head, pushing forward gently, trying to let their lips meet. Almost like the first time.

She let herself be brought forward, and their lips met with passion, love, and a touch of the sweet consideration towards each other that they shared. After a few short, but blissful, seconds they pulled away, and just stared into each other's eyes before Whitney broke the silence.

"Before one kiss leads to another, I really have to go home."

He sighed, "All right, I'll see you tomorrow."

She climbed out of his lap, and they both stood up. Tony took her hand in his, and they walked out of the park together, taking precautions to not let anyone see them, and they broke apart and walked down their separate paths.

Whitney definitely believed in love now.

But little did she know about the man hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right time...

* * *

_**I know it's horrible Sarah and I'm sorry. I really, really am...**_

_**Anyway, this is most likely going to be a chapter story. Because Sarah was hinting at it. So don't worry! Things are about to heat up, I'm just laying the groundwork here. :)**_

_**Does anyone want to guess who that creepy man is? I would LOVE to hear what you all think! **_

_**Thank you so much for reading this! I love you!**_


	2. Chapter 2: You Don't See Me

_**Author's Note: **And I'm back again! I'm sorry it took so long, I have just been so busy! Freshman year you know ;)_

_By the way, I updated chapter 1 to make it smoother. Hopefully I didn't mess it up too much. _

_**I can't hardly believe that I got a review! Thank you to **PercyJacksonLover14 **for making my day!**  
_

_**~PercyJacksonLover14~ Aw, thank you! I'm so, so happy you loved it! And this may sound weird, but I'm glad that I made you feel sorry for Whitney too. That was my goal, so I'm glad I got the emotion across! And thank you again for making me so happy!**_

* * *

The man watching her leave stood in the shadows, not wanting to be seen by the young girl.

_"After all this time. You two thought I left, didn't you? I guess I know how to hold a grudge, don't I sweetheart?"_

He continued talking to himself, proof of his insanity.

_"But I won't make you pay just yet. There's always time for that, isn't there? First I'm just going to frighten you, scare you a bit, then it'll happen. I'll make both of you suffer for the humiliation you caused me."_

The man held a small necklace in his hand with the initals, _T & W__, _carved into a golden heart that hung from the equally golden chain.

_"I wonder what would happen if you lost this. Oh, wait, you already have. It was stupid of you to just leave it in your room. I figured out the code to your little box, Whit, it was rather simple of you." _

Twisting the shimmering locket in his fingers, he scowled at the object.

_"We'll see what happens, we'll see how happy you'll be after I'm through with you. Your little boyfriend won't be able to help you then. I'll make sure of it..."_

His anger took over, and he had to calm himself so he wouldn't just grab her right then, and there. No, he was going to wait. Make them wonder who he was. Cause suspense, create fear. They deserved it...they deserved it...

* * *

Not even her father could bring Whitney down now.

Whitney was on top of the world, wonderful. Simply wonderful. They say that everything looks beautiful to you when you're in love. Whoever 'they' were. Well, 'they' were right, absolutely everything looked so different, but in a perfect way. The stars shined brighter, the people passing by her seemed to be happier than usual. It might be cliche, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered as long as he loved her. Absolutely nothing.

A smile crept up on her face as she thought about the love of her life. He was the love of her life. Well, within certain limitations. God comes first. Period. And he understood that, he understood her. Tony loved her for who she really is, not because she was pretty, not because she was rich, but because he loved her. It still sent the feeling of shock down her spine. She was loved, by a wonderful, perfect boy who _actually_ loved her, and not just lusted after her.

Whitney took out her cell phone to check the time.

_8:23,_

Okay, she was fine. Her dad wouldn't be home until 9:30 most likely. Or at least today. Not like she cared how late he was anyway, he didn't care about her, she wouldn't care about him. Right? Whitney let out a tiny sigh, ruining her moment of elation. The problem was that she _did_ care, he was too stressed, too wound up, too tired.

Oh, what she wouldn't give to have a normal family. Aaaand there she went again, thinking about her parents. She didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care. No matter how many times she told herself those three words, it just wouldn't go away. The thoughts of her parents, and how miserable they were. Well, she had to take that back, she didn't know how her mother was doing.

He may say that he doesn't care about her, but he would still be her father, and she would still care. Maybe one day, or maybe just in her dreams, he might love her back. Maybe one day, he would walk her down the aisle, maybe...

Snap! She was going to be late!

One look at the time on her cell phone sent her running...

Her father might just get mad, but Valarie would be livid! And there was no wrath greater than that of the lovable housekeeper's. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow disapear from an alley across from her, dismissing it as nothing Whitney took off running in the direction of her home.

* * *

A million things were running through Tony's mind.

_"What am I going to tell Pepper, and Rhodey..."_

Oh, boy. Pepper, and Rhodey. Tommorrow. Lunch. Oh, boy. How did he let her talk him into this? But he wasn't about to back down now, no sir, he wasn't. But his wandering mind had other ideas...

_"What if this gets out!"_

_"What if something happens!"_

_"What if..."_

No, he couldn't think about that. Nothing like that would ever happen to her. His worst nightmare would never come true. Ever. He shoved his hand into his pocket, searching for his phone, he glanced at the time, and his eyes widened.

_8:23,_

Oh, no! No, no, no! He was late! Oh man, if he wasn't back by 8:30 Roberta was going to be on a war-path! And nothing, absolutely nothing was worse than Rhodey's mom when she was mad. Nothing! He took off, his feet pounding the pavement beneath him as he dodged between the many pedestrians passing by. He suddenly felt a shiver go up his spine, it wasn't from the cold, it was something...else. Something that made him stop, and look around him, searching for something(or someone)

When Tony saw that nothing was there, he became cautious, but continued running. Paranoia was a side-effect of being a hero...

* * *

_**I know, I know, it's short, and boring! But don't worry, I'm writing the next chapter now, and it's rather exciting if you ask me! :)**_

**_Virtual hugs! _**


	3. Chapter 3: It Has Just Begun

_**Wow! I got two reviews last time! I know, I get excited about the tiniest things :)**_

_**A big huge thank you to **PercyJacksonLover14 **and my wonderful Guest who made me smile. You two are so nice! Thank you, thank you!**_

* * *

One thing Whitney knew, was that she was in trouble. Valarie _was_ absolutely livid! Thank God her father was already in bed, or else she would have to deal with them both!

"I'm really sorry, Valarie, I promise I won't do it again." Whitney apologized profusely, staring up into the fiery brown eyes of the housekeeper she had come to know as her mother.

"That's what you said last time," Valarie McClary accused, hands on her hips.

Whitney dropped her head in shame, she had disappointed one of the most important people in her life. It made her upset.

"Oh love, you scare me when you're out so late. It's a big city out there, and I don't want you getting hurt." The housekeeper placed a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder. She loved the blonde like she was her own daughter, she had no family of her own. Knowing that she might get hurt broke the elderly woman's heart.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." She nodded, finally scrouging up the courage to look into Valarie's eyes.

"Alright dear, just go on and get to bed. But don't wake up your father now, he's in one of his moods." Valarie whispered, taking the hand off Whitney's shoulder, and nudging her up the staircase.

"Okay." She said, walking up the steps as softly as possible. She really didn't want to wake up her father. If he was already mad before he went to bed, who knows what state he would be in if she woke him up!

"Whit?"

"Hmm?" Whitney turned around,

"Is it a boy?" The housekeeper had a knowing look on her face.

"N-no of course not, why would you think that?" Her palms started sweating. What if Valarie had figured it out? What if her father knew? What if they told her to stay away from Tony? No, this was all worst case scenario stuff. Valarie would never do something like that, she would never tell her dad about the person she loved. Especially if it was Tony Stark.

"I know where that sparkle in your eyes is from," Valarie smiled. Who is it?"

"Umm," Uh-oh. She asked her 'who' Okay, all she had to do was breathe, just breathe. In, and out. After all, she didn't have to lie. Did she?

"I understand, go on to bed. We can talk about it when, and if, you're ready."

"Thanks Val." It took everything Whitney had to keep from releasing a sigh of relief, it would give away too much.

"You're welcome love. Go on, off with you now, shoo! You have school tomorrow!"

"Yes, ma'am." She said rather sarcastically -in a playful manner of course-

"March, young lady!" Valarie pointed to the staircase, asserting her motherly authority over the girl.

"Yes, ma'am!" Whitney took that opportunity to tread, lightly, up the staircase as fast as she could. All of her former sarcasm gone at the sound of Valarie's threatening tone.

_"One of these days..." _The housekeeper thought, smiling to herself. She returned to her previous task of straightening out the living room before heading off to bed. Whitney really was a nice girl, and she was growing up too fast for Valarie's liking. She had known the now-sixteen year old since she was eight. Right after the death of Maria Stark, when she no longer had a mother-figure in her life. Valarie's smile faltered as she thought about how sad Whitney was, her and Tony, they were so close to each other they could practically read the other's thoughts.

Valarie didn't know just how Maria died, since neither of them ever talk about it, but she did know that it was an accident. That it shouldn't have happened, that the two children should have died along with her, but Valarie was glad they didn't. After that Whitney would spend more time over at the Stark's, with Tony, and Howard. It was like her second home in those days. Of course, Valarie had never formally met Tony's father, but from what she had heard, he seemed like a very nice man.

Sometimes, when he was going to be in a meeting for the rest of the day, he'd bring Tony over just so they could be together. She noticed how happy Whitney looked -they both looked- as they started chatting about engineering, mechanics, and all sorts of random things they shouldn't have learned yet. Valarie remembered one time when they started to whisper, then scrambled down to the basement. A few hours later, a loud bang erupted from where the two kids were. Frantic, Valarie bolted down the basement steps to find the children covering their ears, huddled up in the corner.

* * *

_"What have you done!" Valarie exclaimed, surveying the damage. Apparently, they had blown a hole through the work bench on the other side of the basement, dented the concrete, and cracked the window over the bench._

_"We didn't mean to do it!" Whitney defended, taking her hands off of her ears._

_"We're sorry! We just crossed the wrong wires." Tony apologized, staring at the floor._

_"We're going to have a long talk with your fathers." Valarie shook her head, those two are able to get into more trouble than a bull in a china shop._

_"No!" They both shouted, obviously worried about the repercussions of their "experiment"_

_"Oh, yes, come on you two." _

And that's where the interesting part began. They were afraid they couldn't see each other because of the accident.

_"But Miss Valarie, what if Daddy won't let Tony come over any more!"_

_"It was my fault Miss Valarie, I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry!_

_"No, it was my fault, I didn't place the wires right!"_

_"We can fix it!"_

They both started rushing to remove the blackened wreckage of parts scattered across the concrete floor.

_Valarie sighed when she saw the kids staring at the crack in wall. Shifting their gazes to the broken glass, back up to the window, then off to the side to the crack._

_"Fine, you know what? Let's just keep this our little secret, okay?" Valarie's reserve weakened as she saw them looking at each other with misty eyes. They both wheeled around to face her, and ran up to hug her legs._

_"Thank you Miss Valarie!" They both chorused._

_"All right now, don't touch that glass! I'll be right back, and we can start cleaning this mess up, okay?"_

_"Okay!"_

* * *

All three of her own children had grown up, and moved out of state. She still had contact with them, but they were too busy with their own lives to come and visit. Her husband died soon after the birth of her last child, she still thought about him every day. Valarie adjusted the brown throw pillows scattered along the couch, then headed back upstairs to her room.

The second Whitney entered her room, a strange ominous feeling bubbled in her stomach. The kind you get when you know something is wrong, but you just can't place where it's from. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, searching for the source of her discomfort -if there was even a source-,but she did find the jewelery box Tony had made for her sixteenth birthday opened up on the nightstand...where it wasn't supposed to be...

"Oh no!"

She ran over to the box, all previous thoughts evaporating as new ones took their place. She frantically searched through the precious mahogany box, looking for that one invaluable piece of jewelery that can never be replaced, and if it was stolen, would most certainly cause a media explosion. And she didn't find it. She started to panic, and almost ran down the stairs, but stopped herself.

_"The house has a state-of-the-art alarm system, right? So who could have gotten in here? Besides, why would they just steal my locket? Why not take the whole box along with it? Something...never mind..."_

She shook her head, trying in every way to convince herself that she over-reacting. Taking deep breaths, she relaxed herself before hopping into a quick shower, and climbing into bed. But through-out the night she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched...

* * *

Tony nearly burst through the door to the Rhodes' home, but barely -just barely- stopped himself. When he opened the door, Roberta stood near the doorway, tapping her foot, arms crossed, and an all-too-familiar "You are in trouble." eye glare.

"I can explain!" Tony insisted, hoping to lessen the punishment that was inevitably going to follow.

"I don't want any excuses, Tony," Roberta sighed, "I know I haven't been giving with your curfew, but that doesn't mean you can blow it off like that."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I really didn't notice the time. I _promise_ it won't happen again."

"Just where have you been heading off so late?" She asked, her tone less threatening now.

Now he was in for it...what was he going to say now? Just as he was cycling through different excuses, Rhodey appeared in the hallway. Tony gave him a "Help me" look, fortunately, all he did was shake his head.

"Mom, Tony, and I have to study for that Chemistry test tomorrow. Can the interrogation wait?"

Roberta sighed again before making a sweeping motion with her hand. Tony bolted into his room, relieved that he avoided the 'where have you been' question. That question right there had two answers...neither of which he wanted to divulge.

"Thank you, I thought I was done for." He said, relief evident in his voice.

"Where were you? You know my mom doesn't like it when you're late, take it from me." Rhodey asked.

"You too?"

"Hey, I just want to know what you've been doing lately. I'm supposed to be your friend here."

"I know, Rhodey, _He'd know tomorrow, _"I'll tell you tomorrow okay?"

Another shake of his head as Rhodey walked out of Tony's room, shutting the door behind him.

_"I just hope it's the right thing." _He thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep, despite a feeling of foreboding crawling in his mind.

* * *

_"Where should you find this? In your locker maybe? Yes, that will work nicely...but how will I get it in there? I could just sneak in, and plant it now. Yes, right now. I can't wait to see the look on your face when you find this pitiful little thing at your school. Where I should be going, but I can't because of you..."_

The man continued to dangle the locket from his dirty finger-tips. How he hated them both! They were so happy, he should be happy like them, but they ruined that for him. They deserve everything coming to them. The man had thought about this for a very long time, he had planned out exactly how he was going to hurt them, they deserved to be hurt.

He dispised them with a burning passion that engulfed every square inch of his soul. He was smarter than them, he deserved to have the attention, not them. They were just dumb teenagers, they didn't match his inteligence, even if they were combined. So he would get rid of them, ruin them, break them both. They would never be the same when he was done with them...

* * *

"Hey, Whit."

"Hi, Pep."

Pepper leaned up against the locker next to Whitney as she tried to open it.

"Need help?"

"I don't know it just won't bu-got it!"

But as soon as Whitney opened the locker, all the color drained from her face.

"What's wrong? Is it a bug, a spider or something?" Pepper shivered, "I hate spiders!"

"N-no it's nothing I just, uhh, nothing." She lied, quickly closing the locker after she snactched her History book. "We should go."

"Okay,"

They began walking, and chatting with each other, even though Whitney seemed to be highly uncomfortable. She was clutching the book to her chest, and her eyes shifted from person to person nervously.

"Anything wrong?" Pepper asked, hoping to console her friend.

"No, I just...had a nightmare last night that's all."

"Oh, I'm sorry-hey, look at Shannon, and Tony." She whispered, discreetly nodding in their direction.

Whitney's grip on the textbook became tighter as she saw her rival flirting with _her_ boyfriend. Even if she had no idea, it was still unsettling. Shannon flipped back her ebony hair, and lightly fluttered her eyelashes, making both the girl's eyes roll.

"She makes me so mad sometimes!" Pepper grumbled,

"I know right! She-never mind." Whitney dropped her head to the floor,

They heard the bell ring, the first warning for second period. Meaning after this, the couple would reveal their secret relationship to their friends. Just thinking about it made Whitney even more nervous, and after seeing what was in her locker, it was enough to make her faint -but thank goodness she didn't-

Class seemed to go by much faster than normal, and as they all headed up to the roof to have lunch, Whitney and Tony shared nervous glances at each other. Each of them apprehensive about what their revalation might bring.

"Umm guys, we-we have to tell you something." Whitney started, wringing her hands.

Tony cleared his throat before he began, he was going to make this quick and easy. Like ripping off a band-aid.

"Whitney, and I have been dating. Without...anyone...knowing." Okay, the first part came out as planned, but the second...not so much.

They searched the faces of their friends, but their expressions were unreadable.

"We know," Rhodey said. They both just stared at their friends. What in the world? Did Rhodey just say that they both _knew_, were they really that careless?

"How?" Whitney asked,

Pepper giggled a bit before she replied, "We noticed the way you two look at each other, we're not stupid, we can tell when two people are in love or not. And you two definitely are."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, "Is it really that obvious?"

"Kind of," Rhodey replied, giving his shoulders a light shrug.

"But if you two are going to be together," Pepper coughed, "Tony, is there something you would like to, you know, say to her?"

Whitney turned to him, "What?"

"Oh boy...uhh," Tony let out a nervous laugh, "Maybe I can just show you...after school...it's uhh, complicated."

"Uh-huh."

"He's I-" Pepper tried to tell, but was jabbed in the side by Rhodey. "Hey!"

"Leave the story telling to Tony."

"Fine! So...how long have you two been, you know, _seeing_ each other?"

"Six months," Whitney announced.

"Wow, I thought you two had been going longer!"

Another jab in the ribs,

"Watch it!"

Tony and Whitney gave loving looks toward each other, and a hint of relief mixed in as well.

"Aw, are you two going to kiss now?" Pepper asked hopefully, which earned her yet another jab in her side.

"Ow! Rhodey, it's going to bruise! Quit it!"

It took almost all the self-control the couple had to keep from laughing...when Whitney's mind jerked back to the letter she found stuffed in her locker, along with her missing locket. She had to tell Tony! But she didn't want to ruin this perfect moment, so she kept it to herself. As the classes continued, she couldn't help but think about what the letter meant by,

_Soon you'll pay for what you've done..._

* * *

**_A/N Believe me when I say that the creepy guy gets much creepier in the next chapter. I am going to be waaay out of my comfort zone for this story..._**


	4. Chapter 4: Nightmare

_"I-I'm sorry!" Whitney tried to make that horrible man stop hurting her. She was coughing violently, her arm wrapped tightly around her midsection, purple bruises marring her fair skin. She wanted desperately to get away from him, but she was so weak that she fell each time she tried to rise from the floor. He clutched her arm that wasn't holding her waist in a vise grip, no doubt leaving another bruise there. The man forced Whitney to her knees, he grabbed her chin and yanked her head up so she had to look at him. His eyes burned into her's with pure disdain and hatred, and she had never felt so frightened of a single person in all her life. _

_"Sorry won't cut it sweetheart." His fist collided with her stomach for the tenth time, making her gasp in pain._

_She closed her eyes as another hit came to the side of her face, snapping her head to the side. She fell back onto the floor, effectively knocking out the only precious air she still had left in her lungs. She gasped as the punches came one after the other, and each one hurt more than the last. After a while Whitney's breathing started to come in short pained wheezes, and she just laid there, crumpled up on her side, limp and panting. _

_"Pl-please, stop," She pleaded,_

_She hated begging, she hated feeling dependent on him, but her entire body felt like it was on fire, and she couldn't take it anymore. The man had been mindlessly hitting her for the better part of three hours. Or, at least, she thought it had been three hours._

_"You don't deserve that.__" The man's raspy, hate-filled voice echoed unnaturally through her ears. He got down beside her, and pressed a meaty hand against her broken ribs. __A small whimper escaped her lips, she tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he caused her pain, but this was all too much. _

_Whitney knew that he wanted to shatter her, break her, make her suffer for the rest of her life, but she wouldn't give up so easily. No one would ever just make her let go, not even him. Even if she was on the verge of death, she would never give into him. Tony would save her, he always did. She knew he would, she knew that he had to be looking for her, he would never give up on her. Oh, Pepper must be so worried about her, and Rhodey had to be worried too. They loved her like a sister, they had to be searching for her...some one had to. _

_A sick grin formed on his face, causing Whitney's eyes to grow wide. When he looked creepy like that, it usually meant she was about to experience a new, higher level of pain, or so she had learned over the past hours. The man leaned down to brush strands of sweat-damped hair away from her face, and she recoiled from the unwanted touch. The last thing she wanted was him being anywhere near her, after all, he was basically trying to -going to- kill her. She swallowed back a monstrous lump that had formed in her throat._

_"Wh-why are y-you d-do-ing this." She stumbled over her words, trying desperately to keep from passing out. Her eyes fluttered, but Whitney knew if she let the darkness shrouding her vision overcome her, she would probably never wake up again._

_"In all honesty, it was a..spur of the moment type thing," he chuckled, as he ran his fingers through her semi-wet hair, eliciting a shiver from the teen, "I'm probably just going to leave you here," He leaned down to her ear, "Just so you can die alone," he whispered. _

_"You-you're," her eyes began to roll into the back of her head, she felt so cold..._

_"How adorable. Trying to get __in __one last insult before I kill you, huh?" He pressed harder on her side, causing her to let out a sharp cry of pain._

_"You won't be that lucky..." He continued to increase the pressure, cracking her ribs even more._

_"Stop!" She cried, but that spurred him on even more. A sickening crack resounded through the young girl's ears, and she screamed. He pushed her over so that she was on her back, raised a foot to hover menacingly over her chest, and then..._

"Miss Stane!" A sharp voice broke through her nightmare.

Whitney's eyes flew open to reveal her class room, History, to be exact.

"We only have a few minutes left in class, please try to not sleep through them." Ms. Pepels' tone was unusually harsh.

"Yes, ma'am," Whitney squeaked. She tried to ignore the teasing giggles from the other students as she let her gaze fall back down to her papers.

"Are you feeling okay?" Pepper whispered comfortingly from the seat directly beside her. All she could do was shake her head, that-that _stupid_ letter set off her imagination complex! Every single noise sent her reeling, as if some mad man was going to burst through the door. Tony shot her a sympathetic glance, or in other words, "We'll talk about this later." She could still see the man in her dream, he was so familiar, yet she had no clue as to who he was. _Only a few more minutes..._ she kept telling herself over and over, but the images and the voice kept replaying in her mind like a broken record.

The voice kept playing in her mind, it's haunting tone invading her thoughts, it kept saying the words from the letter.

_You'll soon pay for what you've done..._

It freaked her out to no end, she didn't even know what she had done! If she had done anything that is. Just then, a random thought entered her mind. What if she actually had done something terrible to this person, and she just couldn't remember! A shiver ran down her spine, she still had entire months swiped from her mind. It was possible. The whole theory had an eerie feeling behind it. Was she really capable of driving a person to insanity? What in the world had she been doing in those missing months?

No, she was over-reacting to some idiot's idea of a joke, that's all! But that "idiot" broke into her house. This was too...personal. Why didn't the person just talk to her, or something? She would be more then willing to right whatever wrong she had committed. Maybe she should just tell Valarie already, the guy was obviously a stalker or something. And that was perfectly normal for celebrities, right? Right. Perfectly normal. But was it normal to feel like she was going to burst from anxiety at any second? Whitney sunk down further in her chair. She was definitely going to throw up if her heart didn't stop pounding in her chest.

"Whit, you don't look so good," Pepper pointed out.

Whitney knew she probably looked rather pale, she even_ felt_ pale. But school was almost over anyway, she would be fine. She prayed to God that she would be fine...

"I'm fine, Pep, really. I just-" She gripped the sides of her chair as she felt the bile rising in her throat. "I just don't feel very well right now."

"Do you want to talk about it," Pepper glanced at the clock on the wall, "After class?"

She gave her head a slight nod, barely moving. Afraid that if she aggravated her in any way, the thin line keeping her from expelling everything in her stomach would dissolve. Throwing up in class was not a wise thing to do, high-schoolers have a very good memory, rumors would be circulating around the school like wild-fire for at least a few months. Not to mention Tony would never leave her alone for the rest of the day, insisting that she go see a doctor and all that. He could get so worked up over the tiniest things. But the person that sent that awful letter...and she didn't even read the whole thing!

Then she heard the two most wonderful words known in existence,

"Class dismissed!"

And she was going to head straight for the bathroom.

Pepper took one last look around the hallway before walking over to her two friend's at their lockers.

"Hey, guys...have you seen Whitney anywhere? I can't find her." Pepper asked, worry etched into her face.

"We," Tony glanced at Rhodey before continuing, "Figured she was with you."

"She usually is." Rhodey was un-sure about where she was too. Whitney never ventured far from Pepper during school hours.

"Oh! Never mind-I know." Pepper hurried her words before rushing off towards the ladies' bathroom.

"Well, there you have it. Mystery solved." Rhodey turned back around,

"Uh...do you think...that after I tell her...she would be...I don't know...mad?" Tony started to absentmindedly play with his phone.

"What?"

"You know...about the armor..."

"Are we thinking about the same girl here?"

Tony shrugged, eyes locked on the object in his hands.

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but Whitney forgives you faster than Pepper talks-"

"I heard that!"

They heard Pepper shout from across the hallway, Rhodey didn't know she had come out yet.

"Whoops..." He turned around to face a very un-happy Pepper.

Tony smiled, taking his eyes off the phone, "You are in trouble." He mouthed.

"Rhodey, I love you like a brother," She put a hand on his shoulder, "But you are one comment away from a smack upside the head!"

He winced, "Sorry."

"Ah, no harm done. I just wanted to see how you'd react," She took the hand off.

"Cruel."

"I know."

Tony cleared his throat, gaining their attention, "How's Whitney?"

Pepper looked up at the ceiling before she moved her eyes back to Tony, "She's just a little, um, frazzled right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony asked,

"Nerves."

"About what?"

"She didn't tell me. And believe you me, I tried to pry it out of her, but she says that it's nothing."

"Sounds like her." Rhodey mumbled,

"You think I should go talk to her?" Tony motioned towards the bathroom, she still hadn't come out.

"That would be best-" Pepper's eyes lit up, " Oh, she paled when she opened her locker this morning. Maybe someone's been deliberately scaring her or something." Rhodey gave her a "How-is-that-even-possible" look. "Well, it was a long shot!"

Tony shook his head, "I guess the whole Iron Man thing will have to wait."

"If you're trying to get out of this-"

"I'm not! I just don't want to," He searched for the right word, "Upset her even more."

Pepper sighed as Whitney timidly walked out of the bathroom.

"Go talk to her, she needs it."

Tony made eye-contact with her. Pepper was right, she didn't look well at all.

All color was completely drained out of her cheeks, her normally bright, shining eyes glazed over. She looked scared...like that day...

"See what I mean?" Pepper said, her voice low.

"Yeah, I really would go talk to her." Rhodey insisted,

* * *

Tony started to walk over to her, and she moved her eyes downward, not wanting him to see how scared she truly was. She turned to the side, and began to walk away, but she didn't get far.

"What's wrong?" He draped an arm over her shoulder,

"What about no public displays of affection?" She flicked his hand off her shoulder. She did her best to sound cold, like she didn't want to speak to him. But she just wanted to collapse in his arms right then and there. After emptying everything in her stomach she really felt like bawling her eyes out. Whitney wanted protection, and she was pushing that away.

"I just want to help, Whit. You usually don't...act like this." His voice was so loving, just like it always was, but she couldn't bring herself to admit that she was about to have a panic attack, could she?

"Look, if I tell you, you'll most likely call the police and I-" Oh, snap. There is was, "The Look". There was absolutely no way of avoiding this now. Why did she have to mention the police?

"Why would I have to call the police?" Tony questioned, his tone firm.

"It's nothing." She shook her head keeping her eyes downward all the while. Silently praying that Tony would disengag the conversation.

"I don't want to hear that 'it's nothing'. If you don't tell me, I'll-" His eyes narrowed, "Damn it, Whitney, if this is about your dad, I swear. I'm going to kill that-"

She cut him off, "Language! And no, this has absolutely nothing to do with Dad, I _promise._"

"Then what? If I don't know what's going on, I can't help you."

"It's-" Again, with "The Look", "I'm having a little problem with someone I don't even know, he or she, sent me this-this _creepy_ letter and it's really started to freak me out. I didn't get any sleep last night because someone broke into the house and stole-"

"Hold on, someone _broke into your house!" _His voice raised, Whitney noticed people were starting to stare-not including Pepper or Rhodey-

"Shhh! Yes, but they only stole the locket you gave me."

"_They-_" He cleared his throat, "They got into your room too? That's it, we are going to the police. Right. Now." He grabbed her wrist and led her back over to where Rhodey and Pepper were standing.

"Tony, really, you're making a big deal out of this." She protested,

"No, you're not making enough of a deal out of this." He lectured, letting go of her.

"Well, that was-" Rhodey began,

"Quite a conversation." Pepper finished,

"It certainly was." Whitney huffed, arms crossed.

Tony ignored her, "We have a problem."

Whitney heard a buzzing from inside her purse, she pulled out the black phone and read the caller ID.

_Unknown_,

"Can I answer it?" She asked, a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"You can be mad all you want to, but when a potentially dangerous person starts sending my girlfriend creepy letters, I don't want to wait around to see what happens."

Her eyes softened when she realized that he was just being his usual protective self. And besides, letting the authorities know was probably the wisest thing to do. Tony nodded towards the still buzzing phone, and gave her a reassuring smile. At least he wasn't mad at her. She smiled back to let him know that she wasn't mad either, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Pepper and Rhodey roll their eyes. Whitney shook her head at her friends' attempt to provide some sort of comic relief, she pressed the green button near the screen, and moved the device to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_I thought you never took calls from strangers..."_

Every part of her body weakened...that voice...it was the same one from her nightmare!

"Oh, no." She wanted to end the call, but her hands wouldn't cooperate. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't even see her friends as they frantically tried to coax her back from the coma-like state she had entered.

_"I hope you aren't scared of me. That would make things much less fun...for me anyway..." _The raspy voice taunted. Whitney whimpered as the images from her dream replayed in her mind. The blood. The pain. Everything.

"W-why?"

The voice just laughed, _"Do you honestly expect me to just lay it out for you? That doesn't make the game fun! I spent so long just thinking up ways that I can make the two of you pay for what you've done. And this is what I came up with. I found out that I can hurt both of you at the same time! Brilliant, isn't it? But you wouldn't understand...hmm, no response? Don't you have some sort of snippy remark for me? Ah, well, your boyfriend definitely will."_

"No! Don't hurt him! I-I'll do anything, please don't take him away from me!" She sobbed, tears flowing freely down her face. It was alright if that man hurt her, but he could never hurt Tony. She-she couldn't live without him!

_"Now, that's what I was looking for! I know you both so well, don't I? Well, I had a lot of fun chit-chatting with you, darling, but we have to start our little game now," _Whitney shivered continuously, she had never felt so scared in her life. It was that horrible voice. She knew where it came from. She knew exactly who it belonged to. Except, at the same time, she didn't.

_"No one can stop what's about to happen...you are going to pay...and maybe...you'll do me, and the world, a favor and _die_ in the process." _

The phone clicked as the call disconnected. The volume of the dial tone hurt her eardrums, but everything began to fade to black. Whitney felt her legs go out underneath her, the phone slipped from her hands, and...

_She fainted._

* * *

_**A/N Was the beginning confusing? If so, I accomplished my goal, yay! Anyway, it creeped me out...it was super hard to write that. I was literally cringing as I wrote it, but I thought "What better way to describe how freaked out Whitney was then a nightmare?" So...*takes deep breath*...yeah.**  
_


	5. Chapter 5: The World Stops

**A/N Yay! I finally got this written, so, here you are! Chapter five! Wow, I've actually made it to five chapters! :D **

* * *

The whole world stopped turning for Tony.

One of his oldest friends looked like a statue. Un-responsive, shivering, and crying. They all tried to pry the phone from her hands, but it wouldn't budge. She held on to the phone as if her life depended on it. For all they knew, it probably was. Then she just...collapsed.

One minute she was answering the phone, and the next she was in his arms, limp as a rag-doll.

"I-I think is still here." Pepper pointed to the door at the back of the hallway. She just witnessed her best friend,no,her sister, break down right in front of her. All over some stupid phone call! Once she got her hands on the person who was doing this to her sister, ooh, he wouldn't be able to move for a week! Pepper had never seen this side of Whitney before, so...vulnerable with Rhodey and Tony trying to hold her up.

"Can you go get her? It doesn't look like she's waking up." Tony kept his eyes locked on Whitney while he spoke.

"I'll be right back!" Pepper ran off to the nurse, silently praying that everything would be okay.

"Do you think she'll okay?" Rhodey asked as they placed her back up against the wall.

Tony sighed, he had never seen her like this before. He hated it. He hated not being able to protect her from the...whatever it was that had been causing her to feel like this. How long had it been going on anyway? What is she not telling him? He decided that he was going to find out who this person was, and why he -or she- was messing with Whitney. _His _Whitney.

They heard a series of whimpers, and random words from the fragile girl. The two boys exchanged confused glances, and Tony knelt down beside her.

"Pepper will be back with the nurse any second now, Whit, it'll be okay." He soothed. She started to whimper at the sound of his voice.

_"Tony...please...make him stop."_

He completely shattered in a thousand pieces. Hearing one of the strongest people he knew, _beg_ for him to save her, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to help her, at least, not in this situation.

"What do I do?" He intertwined his fingers with her's, but she wouldn't wake up.

"I-I don't know...Pepper should have been back by now," Rhodey sounded distressed.

Whitney's face contorted with, what appeared to be, pain.

"_Stop him, Tony, please."_

"I'm trying, I'm trying," his voice cracked. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, this was killing him. Just watching her while she kept pleading, crying, and in obvious pain.

"I'm right here, you're okay, he can't hurt you. No one will ever hurt you." He whispered gently. More whimpers came from the girl's mouth.

"I found Mrs. Weston!" Pepper announced as she ran up to the three teens.

"What happened here?" Mrs. Weston asked, examining the girl against the wall.

"I-we-we're not sure, she just fainted." Tony kept caressing her hand, he had to have some reassurance that she was still alive. Still breathing. Still Whitney.

"Hmm, it looks like a panic attack of some sort."

"Don't people hyperventilate when they have a panic attack?" Pepper asked.

"Yes, that's why I'm confused. She seems to be in a, trance."

"Trance?" Rhodey questioned.

"Or a flashback, I'm not sure, but what I do know is that you need to get her some help. This could be a problem in the future. Tell me, has she been through a traumatic experience recently, or been exposed to something traumatic from her past?"

"I-oh gosh, um, I don't know. I-I don't think so. Will-will she be...okay?" Tony stammered, he felt like he had been run over ten times by a steamroller. Whoever was doing this to her was definitely going to receive a little visit...and it wouldn't pleasant.

"Of course, just keep an eye on her. I can call her parents if you like."

"Not like he'd care," Pepper muttered under her breath.

"Uh, we'll let them know ourselves." Tony insisted.

"Okay, now, let's see if we can help her." Mrs. Weston placed a hand on Whitney's arm, and started to lightly shake her. But that only seemed to make it worse...

_"No! Tony, please...make him stop...it h-hurts...please."_

And that was all it took for Pepper. Tears started to form in her eyes at the sight of her sister writhing, and struggling against the nurse. She grabbed Rhodey's arm as tightly as she could, hoping that in some way he could comfort her.

"Whitney...Whitney. Wake up, it's okay." The nurse soothed, or at least tried to. "Tony, she seems to want you, why don't you try."

He gulped, but moved closer to her.

"Shh," he comforted, "I'm right here, you'll be okay, you're safe now. I've got you Whit, I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Right now, he could care less if someone knew how he felt about her. The only thing that mattered now was Whitney, he wanted-needed-her to be okay. To be Whitney again, and to find the sick freak who thought scaring her was a good idea. He would show that sociopath who he was messing with.

"T-Tony?" Her eyes fluttered open, staring straight into his.

"I'm right here." He squeezed her hand even tighter, fighting to hold back the emotions that were bubbling inside him.

"D-don't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"G-good. I-I." Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fell limp again.

"Okay, definitely hospital time." Mrs. Weston held on Whitney so she wouldn't fall over.

"Do we call 911, or-" Rhodey tried his best to stay calm.

"Yes, her breathing is too uneven."

As Rhodey pulled out his cell phone, Tony just stared at the shivering form in front of him.

_What is happening to her?_

* * *

_Whitney was running, faster than she had ever ran before. Away from something, far away._

_"You can never escape me..." The voice called out to her from every direction._

_"No!" She ran faster, and faster, but the voice was everywhere._

_"Why do you have to make this so hard?" _

_Whitney stopped in her tracks, the voice was right in front of her. She back pedaled slowly, trying not to make a sound...until she bumped into something behind her._

_The man._

_She spun around, and gasped. In one swift move, he locked her arms to her sides. She struggled to get away from him, she needed to get away._

_"Why do you even try?" The man was laughing at her, which only made her fight harder. She kicked, and fought the man holding her with all her strength. She had to get away, she had to!_

_"Wh-what do you want from me?" She screamed. A smirk played at the edges of the man's lips, he pulled her body to his chest. He kept her there with two arms wrapped around her back, squeezing her shoulders. _

_"I want you to die..."_

"Whitney. Whit, sweetie, wake up for me." Tony's sweet voice echoed, but she couldn't wake up.

_Tony...she would never see him again, and she forgot to tell him she loved him. Just one last time..._

_"You really think he can save you, don't you? He can't. You will never get away from me, I'll always plague your thoughts, haunt your dreams, stalk your every step. You will never escape me." The man taunted. _

_"Tony, help me, please!" She begged. She couldn't get away. She needed to get away, but she couldn't._

_"Pathetic." The man threw her body roughly to the muddy ground. The harsh blow __knocked the __wind out of her body, and a sharp, throbbing pain shot up her spine. She tried to get away, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She rolled over, and dug her fingernails into the dirt, trying to get up off the ground, but something was holding her down. The man had her pinned to the ground!_

_"No! No, no, no." She frantically scratched at the mud...he had her pinned down, she couldn't move! But she had to get away from him. She had to get out of this nightmare!_

"Come on, Whit, you're just dreaming." She heard Rhodey's voice through her dream.

_She had to get back to her friends..._

_"You still don't remember me, do you? After this, you won't forget me. You will never be able to forget me." The man pulled out a knife. A knife! She had to get away from him! She scratched and clawed, but it wasn't any use. He pressed the tip of the blade into her back._

_"I'm going to leave so many scars, too many to count."_

_"No, please!" All she could do was whimper. She was going to die, there was no stopping him. She would never get away from him. _

"Whit, you're scaring us. It's not funny, wake up." Whitney heard Pepper's voice call out to her, but there was no getting away now.

_She would never say goodbye..._

_He dragged the edge of the blade across her back, creating a dark red line._

_"They won't save you from me." The man continued to draw random lines across her back, criss-crossing along her shoulder blades, and shallowly stabbing near her spine. He kept going deeper and deeper each time, and she screamed louder, and louder._

_"They won't miss you. No one cares about you. It's all just a facade, just a temporary friendship. Everyone hates you, they all despise you. You don't deserve to live. I'm doing you a favor, my dear, I'm saving you from the heartbreak to come. What makes you think that Tony actually cares about you, what makes you think that he actually loves you? Nothing. You just assume that he does, because he tells you so. You can't believe him, you can't trust anyone because they all lie. Everyone lies to you." He pulled the knife out of her body roughly, cutting more skin as it went. Crimson coated every inch of her once clean back, soaking her shirt, dripping down onto the muddy ground underneath her. The pain...white hot pain engulfed her body like a flame. _

_Why wasn't she dead? She should be dead by now. She wanted to be dead, cold, taken away from the torture. Why couldn't she have died?_

_She continued trying to crawl away from the psycho pinning her down, but the struggling only made the pain worse. If that was even possible. Even though she wanted to die, she desperately wanted to die, but she had to tell Tony once last time that she loved him. She loved them all. They accepted her, they helped her, they wanted her back..._

_They wanted her back!_

_She could hear them calling her, every line, every plead. They were pleading! She had to get back to them, she loved them..._

_This was all a dream! It was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream..._

* * *

"Whitney!" Pepper snatched her sister in a bear hug.

"P-Pepper? Wh-where a-am I?" Whitney looked around, the room was all white. White curtains, white walls, white ceiling, a white window allowed her to look outside, and...off-white sheets. Pepper, Rhodey, and Tony were right beside her bed, looking at her in worry. An I.V was in her arm for some reason, various medical instruments lined the table pushed against the wall, and she hadn't noticed it before, but she was hooked up to a heart monitor. She didn't know much about medicine, but the little she did know told her that she wasn't doing too well. The blue, electronic line moved up and down irregularly. No wonder she was in the hospital, but she wasn't sick, was she?

"Oh, sorry, Whit. I was just, you know, excited. You're in the hospital."

"Blunt much?" Rhodey argued.

"Well, it's not like she couldn't tell already!"

"Guys," Tony threatened.

"Sorry." Rhodey, and Pepper said together.

Tony rolled his eyes as he took Whitney's hand, "What's going on, Whit?" He was being firm again, but he was...worried about her.

"I ca-It's just-I-I." She couldn't bring them into this, he was coming after her now. The man said so himself,_ "No one can stop what's about to happen."_ the least she could do was keep them safe. The man could hurt her, break her, kill her, but he couldn't hurt them. She could never forgive herself if she got them hurt. She knew that man, she knew who he was, but the memory wouldn't reveal itself. It couldn't. She tried. Whitney never told her friends that she had been researching a way to bring back the moments missing from her mind. Every experiment she tried, failed. Miserably. It was pathetic.

_Pathetic._

That's what _he _called her, and it was true. Every letter. She was pathetic. Miserable. Worthless. She wasn't worth their love, care, and support. Even her own father called her worthless, and that's what she was. Worthless. Just a pain in the neck. A trouble-some little girl who wanted love, and acceptance, but she didn't deserve that. No, the man had told her that she didn't deserve to live, and he wasn't wrong. Was he?

"Tony?" Her eyes watered. If she was going to die soon, at least she would have told him.

"I'm here." He still held on to her hand. He was so sweet to her, and she didn't deserve it.

"Do-do you know that I..."

"You what?"

"I love you, Tony. No matter what happens, remember that I love you."

A bright smile flashed upon his face. She loved it when he smiled, she loved to see him happy.

"I love you too. And I mean it, so don't scare me, well, _us_ again. Okay?" He let his fingers play with her hair.

"Okay."

He started to lean down towards her when...

_"Ahem."_

The two heard a coughing sound from behind them.

"We're still here guys." Pepper coughed.

"O-oh, sorry." Tony straightened out, and released Whitney's hand.

_"Do you really think they care about you?"_

Her eyes widened, the man! He-he was in the room! He was staring right at her! He was in the back of the room, partially hidden by the shadows. Just...smiling...

"No!" She shouted, "Get out! Get away! He's here, he's here!" She started hyperventilating, and the monitor beeped faster, alerting the nurses that she was having another panic attack.

"Whitney, Whit, who's here, tell me who." Tony tried calming her down.

"The-the man from m-my nightmare! He's right there!" She pointed towards the man, "You-you have to get out of here! He-He'll kill you! Please, Tony, please!" Her eyes started to roll again.

The man was teasing, and taunting her from the back of the hospital room before disappearing again, but her heart didn't stop racing, she couldn't breathe. The dream she had earlier had burned itself in her mind. It replayed in her head like it was stuck on repeat, always repeating his words, actions, everything. Black clouded the view of her friends as they tried to help her. The electronic line started to speed up, going up and down more erratically as the images grew in intensity. Replaying over, and over, and over. They wouldn't stop! She wanted it to stop!

"There's nothing there Whit, it's your imagination, just your imagination." He pulled her up, being careful of the I.V, and gently held her.

"N-no! He's there, he's there! Please, get away from me, he wants me!" She screamed, "Please...I-I," Whitney collapsed in Tony's arms, too weak to hold herself up. _"I can't lose you." _

Tony was speechless, opening and closing his mouth. Every word that came to his mind wasn't good enough, so he pulled her head to his chest, and whispered "I love you." repeatedly in her ear.

Pepper and Rhodey stood watching him hold her.

"Maybe we should..." Pepper began,

"Yeah, let's give them some privacy." Rhodey put an arm around Pepper's shoulders, and led her out of the room.

Tony was so focused on the girl in his arms that he didn't notice her heart rate grow dangerously low, until the monitor started to screech ear-piercingly loud beeps. She wasn't even breathing!

Doctors, and nurses rushed inside the room, and forced him away from her.

"I'm sorry, but you have to go now." A nurse told him as she ushered him out of the room.

Time slowed down, and everything went blurry as he realized...

_Whitney was dead._

* * *

__**A/N Cliffhangery huh? **


	6. Chapter 6: Reality

**A/N I tried to finish this as quickly as I could. Oh, and thanks to both my reviewers! :D **

* * *

Tony just stood there, rigid, blankly staring at the door.

This couldn't be happening. Could it? Just yesterday he was holding her in his arms, perfectly fine, and now she might-she might be _dead. _Why? How could this have happened? Tony just wanted all of this to be a dream. A horrible, terrifying dream that he wanted to end, just like Whitney wanted her dreams to end. Is this what she felt? He was terrified beyond anything he could have ever imagined. He was potentially going to lose the love of his life because some freak wanted to have a little fun at her expense. He was going to...he didn't know what he was going to do _at the moment_, but whatever it was, it wouldn't be pretty.

His worst nightmare was real, it was coming true. He was going to lose her, and he couldn't do one stupid thing about it. The one thing he feared the most was being helpless to save someone he loved. It had already happened twice. He lost his mother, his father...and now he was going to lose Whitney. The sweet, innocent girl he had fallen in love with.

She wasn't supposed to die like this, she was supposed to be happy. He had been thinking, seriously thinking, about proposing to her one day. If she said yes, he would make her the happiest girl in the world. Happier than she was...was now. When they were little she would always talk about marriage, how it never lasted, and why people even bothered with it. Back then, he didn't know why his palms would sweat, or why he would stumble over his words. But he knew now. He loved her.

He clenched his hands over and over, trying to ease some of the stress on his mind so he could think more clearly. What if...what if one of his _enemies _was doing this to her, messing with her mind. Making her believe that someone was actually after her. Well, if that was true, and he found out who had done this...he didn't even want to think about that right now, all he wanted was Whitney. He wanted her in his arms again, happy, bright, and smiling. Not fearing for her life every second of every day.

He wanted to hold her close, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender mixed with honey. He wanted to protect her from everything, and everyone who tried to hurt her. He took on the role of her protector ever since...his mom...when she died protecting them. After that day he vowed not to let anyone try to hurt her again. He guessed that now, he didn't have to. She was gone, safe with his mom. There was no doubt in his mind that she was in a better place. Happy, and smiling, like she should be. So why did he feel like someone ripped his heart out seven times, and shredded it to pieces? ...Because he lost that one person he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Yesterday, she was fine, but now...she's gone. At least he got to hold her one last time before she-she...

"Hey T,...what's...up?" Rhodey came around the corner with Pepper, seeing the closed-door, and Tony just standing there, staring.

"She's." He couldn't say it, there was no way that he would accept this. Whitney couldn't be dead, she was too young. People don't just _die_ like that, without warning, without cause. But he saw her stop breathing, he saw her heart stop. She was gone. And there was nothing he could do that would bring her back.

"What's going on?" Pepper asked, fear skimming her voice.

"I-I lost her Pep. I failed. She's..."

"Tony?"

"She's dead Pepper! She's dead! I failed!" The pain was replaced with anger over Whitney's death.

Pepper and Rhodey were dumb-struck,

"She-she can't be! She was perfectly fine a few hours ago!" Pepper broke first, tears flowed down her face in steady stream.

She wasn't used to crying, but she couldn't help it. Her sister just died, left, and she would never see her again. There would be a funeral, flowers, everything. The only time she would ever see Whitney again is in a coffin. A coffin!

"Well she is, and-and I...why couldn't she have-"

"Family of Miss Whitney Stane?" Tony was interrupted by the door opening, and a gray-haired man who appeared to be a doctor standing in the doorway.

"Ye-I mean, you could say that. Is-is she-?"

The doctor shook his head, but the grave expression on his face made their hearts drop. "She's stable. She had a panic attack that stopped her heart. Fortunately, she wasn't dead for long, so we were able to restart it without a problem. She will have to stay in observation for a while, but all in all, she's doing wonderfully.

"Will she have to stay for long?" Pepper's voice was timid, and scared. The effects of almost losing someone who was practically part of her family still present.

"We're not sure. Right now, she's doing very well, but that could change over-night." The doctor was kind, like he understood. He looked around the hallway, "Might I ask where her parents are?"

"They don't know she's here." Rhodey found his voice again. Sure, he might have stretched the truth a little tiny bit, but both of Whitney's parents were still alive, right? So, it technically wasn't lying. Was it?

"Ah, I see, I'm afraid we will have to inform them of their daughter's situation. Do you have a way to contact them by any chance?"

"Um, we...don't...maybe? I-hmm." Pepper couldn't remember.

"What she wants to say is that we don't have a _certain_ way to contact them." Tony admitted.

"If it's all right to ask, are her parents divorced?"

"Yes."

"Who has legal custody of her?"

His eyes unconsciously narrowed, "Her father."

"Hmm, alright. Is he on her emergency contact list?"

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Unfortunately."

"May we have access to her cell phone? If you have it, that is."

"Tony has it." Pepper murmured.

"I-I do?"

"She gave it to you. You don't remember that?" Rhodey questioned,

"No. I guess I just forgot." he reached into his pockets, searching for her blackberry.

His hands struck something larger than his phone -which he had already found earlier-, grasped it, and reluctantly pulled it out. Seeing something of Whitney's would only make him feel worse, as if she would never leave this place. For a while, a surreal feeling came over him as he stared at the object. It felt strange, she had never allowed him to touch her phone. She always said that if he got a hold of it, the whole thing would be broken apart in two seconds. He ran a finger over the buttons, and for a moment, he could feel her hand on his, telling him that she would be okay.

"Tony, are you okay?" Rhodey snapped Tony out of his trance.

"Uh, yeah, I just. For a moment I could. Never mind, here it is." Tony didn't want to let it go, he wanted to have one piece of her...just in case.

"Thank you. Um, how in the world do you work this thing?" he pressed all sorts of buttons, and flipped it several times over in his hands.

"Maybe I could try?" Tony offered.

"I'm no good with these things." The brown-eyed doctor smiled as he handed Tony the phone.

The sleek, black device entered his eager hands. He took a deep breath, and turned it on, the phone came alive with a light crescendo ring.

_Password required,_

The thing required a password? Well, duh! Of course she had a password, what teenager wouldn't! Especially Whitney, this phone was her life. Part of her life. She modified it herself, and she kept everything on there, like copies of her blueprints, experiment data, contacts...maybe even a diary. That he was _not_ interested in reading, of course.

...

Okay, so maybe he did want to read it.

"I don't know the password, sorry." Tony still held the phone in his hands, staring at it. If he concentrated hard enough, he could play back the day he met her.

"It's alright, but I still need to contact her parents. It's hospital policy."

"There is a way, but I _really_ don't suggest it." Pepper responded, earning her confused stares from the two boys. "What?"

"And that is?"

"Well, Whitney said that you can talk to Trisha-the secretary, and ask for him, but it might not work.I don't know about her mom, she never talks about her."

"Poor thing." They heard the doctor mutter, "We can ask her father if he knows a way to contact her. Now, would you kids like to sit with her?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Yes!" They all shouted at once, eager to see their friend.

"I have to warn you though, we put her on anti-anxiety medication so she might be tired."

"As long as we can see her." Tony said with a dreaming look in his eyes.

"Just be quiet, and if she falls asleep, let her sleep."

"No problem," Rhodey smiled faintly.

"Alright, there is a nurse with her right now, but you can talk still talk to her. Just remember to be quiet." The kind doctor whispered as he opened the door.

They all walked in carefully, with a sense of dread at what they might see. They didn't dare go any further, perfectly content with being able to view her from afar. Whitney was lying on the bed answering the questions one of the nurses was asking her. She didn't notice them standing there, or when the door gently shut behind them.

"Okay, dear, just take it easy. I'll call your parents, and they'll be here in a little while." The nurse said with sympathy evident in her voice. Whitney's eyes fell to the floor at the mention of her parents, and they all knew what she was thinking.

"Thank you." They hated how her voice sounded. Slightly raspy, and very weak.

"You're welcome," she patted her hand, turned around and saw them, "Oh, look! You're friends are here."

Whitney turned her head to face them. They saw her face light up with complete joy, and Tony couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes.

"I'll be right back now," The nurse smiled warmly before leaving the four alone in the room.

"Hi guys!" she managed to croak out.

"Hi, Whit. Hey, you know, your mom might be coming!" Pepper tried to lift the tension floating in the air, "Won't that be exciting!" she sat at the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, I can't remember what she looks like." Whitney looked up towards the ceiling, "Whenever I think of my mother, I think of Maria. Isn't that strange?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. I thought it was weird."

"Not at all."

"How're you feeling, Whit?" Rhodey joined in the conversation, walking over to Pepper.

"Tired, and to be honest, a little loopy. If you couldn't tell already. Whitney replied. Sitting up, and sounding excited.

Tony didn't move, something was holding him to that spot. A few minutes ago, she was dead, now she was...alive. He was absolutely smitten with her, and after this, he would never take this -what they have- for granted. When she was well again, he was _definitely _proposing to her. He could care less about what the media would say, or how young they were. They could hold off on the actual marriage for as long as she wanted, but he had to 'stake a claim' to her before someone else did. Before anyone else found out, before she began to think that he didn't really love her, before she set back into her old 'love never lasts' way of thinking...

"Tony, are you okay? I'm fine darling, really, it's never going to happen again." Her eyes fell on his, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He struggled to keep himself from running over to stand by her side, and his knees went weak when she looked up at him with genuine happiness, and affection.

"I'm sorry, Whit, I didn't see it coming."

"I didn't either. You don't have a reason to be sorry, if anyone should apologize it should be me. I scared you, I know how much I...mean to you."

Rhodey and Pepper were put into a very awkward situation. They both hoped these things wouldn't happen too often, because this was just...plain weird. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but geez, it was strange seeing them all lovey like this.

"You do mean a lot to me Whitney. Um..." Tony remembered Rhodey, and Pepper on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry about your moment." Rhodey apologized when Tony, and Whitney looked at them.

"We didn't want to...ruin it for you two." Pepper apologized as well.

"No, no, you're fine. We just pick the wrong times for this I guess." Whitney laughed. It was weak, and raspy, but it was still a laugh. She intertwined her finger's with Tony's out of habit, "Is it okay if I sleep now?"

"Oh, sure, we can leave if you-" Pepper was interrupted,

"No. I want you all to stay...when Mom and Dad get here, I want you all with me. I don't want to face them alone." Whitney revealed.

"We'll stay with you, Whit." Whitney squeezed Tony's hand appreciatively.

"Thanks."

As if on cue, harsh, arguing voices came from outside the door.

"That's them all right." Whitney sighed, and Tony stiffened up next to her. "Now, when they come in, just play it cool okay? Don't. Do. Anything."

"Whatever you want." Tony pecked her cheek, earning him a shy smile from the girl.

"Quit it! Someone 'll see!"

"I. Don't. Care." he said in between kisses to her forehead, cheek, and nose.

"I mean it!" A rosy blush formed on her cheeks.

"That blush says otherwise."

"Tony!"

"It looks cute on you."

"Anthony Stark!"

"Full name, huh?"

"My parents. Are. Outside. That. Door."

"You two are so funny!" Pepper laughed, along with Rhodey.

The pink blush on Whitney's cheeks burned into a scarlet mess.

"Why me?"

"Because you're adorable." Tony placed a passionate kiss on her lips,

"Tony! Really?"

Pepper and Rhodey continued to laugh harder, "You're killing us!" Rhodey exclaimed.

"Okay, I'm done now." Tony still held her hand,

"Ugh, you're impossible." she rolled her eyes.

"Impossible, yes, but only sometimes."

"That could be up for debate."

Throughout all the laughter the bickering could still be heard, the shadows neared the door, and the room instantly quieted.

_"If you actually spent time with her this wouldn't have happened!"_

_"You haven't even seen her since she was seven, how am I any worse!"_

_"All this is your fault!"_

_"You think everything is my fault!"_

The argument could be heard through the thick, wooden door. Every word hit Whitney like an anvil, a painful reminder of the trials she went through when she was younger. Hearing the fights, screams, and shouts from the bedroom across the hall. Thrown objects, broken glass, broken furniture, it ranged in intensity every day. When her parents separated she didn't know what to feel, relief, or pain. She felt them both, and they flashed through her mind like lightning. Surging through her heart, attacking her soul. A single tear ran down her cheek as the memories played back. Sometimes, after the divorce papers had been filed, her dad would get so angry, so violent. She was so afraid of him when he would get like that. Memories of that day in court passed through her mind, when they both fought for her like she was some...some object, a possession, rather than a living, breathing, six-year old child.

Tony rubbed small, comforting circles on her back, and put his arm around her.

"Don't cry." Two simple words left his mouth as he brushed the tear off her face.

She pulled her knees to her chest, but refused to cry. There was no way that she'd let them do this to her again, not after she died...Snap, she had died earlier today! Died, dead, poof, vanished, gone with the wind...wasn't that a movie? Yes, that's it, she would think about a movie.

Pepper moved up to hug her sister, "I'm sorry, Whit. They're so inconsiderate, and mean."

Rhodey also joined in the hug, "We're all sorry."

Tony put both arms around her, "You don't deserve to be treated like that."

That did it. The waterworks began, slow, and un-sure, like she was six again. Sitting in that courtroom, holding Tony's hand as they read off the verdict. When they decided who she would grow up with, and where. When they decided the direction of her entire life. All in a few sentences.

_"Stop your arguing! Your daughter almost died, please, do it for her!" _

They heard Valarie's voice. Thank God she was here!

The arguing ceased, and the door opened so slowly it was painful to watch. Her parent's entered the room at an agonizing pace. Her friends detached from their hold, and stood up beside the bed. She straightened herself out, and wiped her eyes. Whitney had an overwhelming urge to stand up, and seem professional. Her mother's presence commanded such actions, and combined with the stoic atmosphere her father emitted, it created a very...uncomfortable aura around the room. For her at least. She always imagined that seeing her mother again would stir uncontrollable emotions, but oddly, she felt nothing for the blonde.

Hypothesising, she thought it was because the woman never really acted like a mother. Instead, she was more of a expectant, driving, uncaring publicist. Always forcing her to do things she didn't want, pushing her to be the best at everything when she obviously wasn't. The ice blue eyes she had were always cold, playing their color perfectly. She inherited her looks, and for that she could be thankful, but she was even more thankful that she didn't inherit her personality. That unfeeling thing Désirée Stane, or whatever her last name was now, had for a soul. Unfortunately, she did inherit her persona from her father, but she managed to wipe out some of the more "unpleasant" traits. The sarcasm remained, however.

The sense of professionalism took control, and Whitney tried her best to smooth her clothes, fix her hair, and fold her hands neatly in her lap. Hoping to impress them just a little. To make them proud of her, just once.

"Whitney." she stiffened even more at the sound of her father's voice. It hurt, she had to admit, her chest felt tight from the 'heart attack' she suffered earlier. But the need to impress them triumphed over the feeling of pain.

She swallowed a massive lump in the back of her throat, "H-hi Mom, Dad." she attempted a smile.

"How are you feeling, Whit?" How are you feeling, Whit?! That's all she had to say? Figures. She shouldn't have gotten her hopes up...her mother did _not_ have the right to call her Whit. Ever. That right was reserved for a select few people, and that list _definitely_ did not include her parents.

"Fine." she lied, she felt horrible. Physically, she felt okay. Emotionally, Whitney felt like she was on a roller coaster. Up, and down, somersaulting, and spinning. There were three reasons for this, one: A deranged sociopath was probably after her. Two: She. Just. Died! Three: Her parents decided they were going to pay attention to her for once.

Yeah, the whole 'honor thy father and thy mother' thing was quite irritating in this situation. She did not, repeat. Did. Not. Want to obey them, or even view them as her parents. Not even biologically. She badly needed reassurance, but she couldn't reach for Tony's hand. In the presence of her parents, even if they announced their relationship, displays of their affection could be considered without asking, forbidden. Speaking of Tony, he wasn't doing too well either. His eyes were narrowed, hands clenched, and in a locked stare with her father. Wonderful.

"When can you leave?" her mother spoke up again.

"Tomorrow, if the anti-anxiety medicine kicks in, and prevents another...episode. The doctor said that I need to be on the prescription until the symptoms stop."

"When did they start?" her father asked, finally breaking the stare with Tony. Were they interrogating her or something? If all they were going to do was ask her questions, they could just leave!

"After school, today."

"Do you want us to leave?" Pepper whispered down to her,

"Oh, no! Heck, no." Whitney shook her head adamantly. No way on God's green earth was she going to face them alone!

"Okay," Pepper said, awkwardly looking up at her parents, then shifting her gaze randomly around the room.

"Can we...speak to you alone?" The way her mother said it, the words sounded more like a command, then a question. Alone...they wanted her...alone? Oh, heck to the no! She needed her friends support, she needed Tony beside her, silently comforting her.

"Uh-of course! Is it all right with you guys?" Another lie. Whitney looked up at Tony with pleading eyes, but it was all futile. Tony had to leave, they all did, and she would be left alone in an awkward situation, with her parents, and her mother that she hadn't seen in nine years. This day just kept getting better, and better!

"Sorry, Whit, but they are your...parents." Tony had trouble saying the last word.

"I know d, I mean, Tony." She barely caught herself.

"Bye, Whit! Have, uh, fun...I guess." Pepper quickly exited the room with Rhodey, and Tony at her sides.

The examining stares from her parents was becoming too much, she concentrated on anything except_ them_. Even her hair looked more interesting, she twirled strands of it around her fingers, twisting and turning, but never returning their gaze.

"Whitney. We-we want to apologize."

Now that got her attention. Did she say...apologize? Was that word even in her vocabulary? Apparently, it was, because she just said it.

"Why?" Whitney's voice remained steady, even though she wanted to scream.

"We should have known about this, your problem." Sweet nectar, they thought she had a problem!

"No, no, no, it's not a 'problem' it's just a random panic attack. I'm fine, I've-I've been having these nightmares, and I'm really...scared." That was the first time she had ever told her parents anything that didn't fall along the lines of 'Why don't you ever talk to me?!", but then again, those lines were yelled, not told.

Was that sympathy she saw in her parents eyes? Or were they going to send her off to some therapist instead? Most likely the latter.

"Is there...anything we can do?" Did that just come from her dad? Shocker...

"Can Valarie come in now?"

"Of course, dear." Dear, too? She didn't have permission to call her that either!

"Thanks," she did not want to talk to them. At all. Even if she hadn't seen her "Mother" in years, or hardly ever saw her father these days.

Whitney let out a sigh of relief when her parents left, finally. She let herself relax, and laid back down. Her eyelids became heavy, and she was about to fall asleep when Valarie came into the room. Impeccable timing.

"Hi, love. How are you feeling?" She asked, tip-toeing over to her.

"Tired, very, very tired."

"Aw, poor thing," Valarie patted her hand, then held it, "I can leave if you want me too."

"No. I want someone with me if I'm going to...fall asleep." Speaking those words made her even more tired, "Can you, and my friends stay with me tonight?"

"I'll stay with you, I'm not sure about your friends. Their parents are here too."

"Oh...okay, if they want to...they can."

"Go to sleep now, love. I'm right here."

"Mmm." Whitney hummed as she closed her eyes, and the weight of her eyelids lifted. Falling asleep naturally felt so good after the unwelcome nightmares she had experienced. And with the medicine, she had a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Sometime into the night, when Valarie had left for whatever reason. Whitney sensed the emptiness, and woke up.

"Valarie?" she called out to nothing. The room was dimly lit, a shade of orange coloring the space. A feeling of dread, and fore-boding entered the teenager's mind. She hated being alone, with _him _trying to find her.

Her wandering eyes landed on a single shadow, widening them to the size of giant saucers. Something that didn't belong, in a hospital room. Mere feet away from her. While she was alone. Alone. She was alone! The shadow moved, closer, and closer, until it was right next to the bed. A person. The-oh...my...a person! It was a hallucination, she was sure of it! It had to be, because the man in her dreams didn't exist. _He_ didn't exist! But the phone call, and now the person. A large hand shot out to cover her mouth when she tried to scream.

"Hello..._Whitney_."

* * *

**A/N Okay, cliffhanger time! I'm surprised I can come up with 'em, usually I can't. And this chapter is more than 4,400 words! Just a random, useless fact...**


	7. Chapter 7: Missing

**Hola everybody! I'm so sorry for the delay, but school was insane this week, so I hope this chapter makes up for it. I'm really sorry if it doesn't because it's not as detailed, but it is slightly longer.**

**Thank you to my reviewers! They all made me smile!**

**Oh, and to my wonderful Guest: Thank you! I'm so glad you're reading even though it's not your favorite pairing! I get excited over the tiniest things... I'm kind of half for each pairing, but I'm a sucker for the 'Romeo and Juliet' style romance, it's just so romantic, and sweet. I'm thinking about it, I truly am. I want to finish this story first because it's for my friend, and she's the one who literally _made_ me join Fan fiction. So...I could use some ideas, if you have them, and if you want to share them with me of course. :)**

* * *

The man had her now, she was alone, she could see him clearly. The forest green eyes, the light auburn hair, the chiseled features. She could feel his rough hand on her mouth, preventing her from calling out for help. If only someone could just walk through that door! She squirmed, but he moved his other hand to her throat, restricting her vital air flow.

"You honestly didn't think that I wouldn't find you? And they all said that you were smart. Guess they were wrong." They? Who in the Sam Hill were 'They'? She was afraid to move, every time she flinched, he'd press down harder. In an effort to distance herself, she went into her mind. Searching for something, anything that would give her a clue about who this man was, and then, she knew.

_"Momma!" _

_"No!"_

That's how she knew him, Maria, he was the man. He did it. He was back. Right in front of her...

_Dalton Walsh is accused of murdering Maria Stark, and the attempted kidnapping of Tony Stark, and Whitney Stane..._

_The defense pleads insanity..._

_The court agrees with the defense..._

She stared into the face of the man who stole their mother away. Killed her right before their eyes, just like that. They both slept beside her body that night, not caring if they had blood on their clothes, they just wanted to be with her. Even though she was gone, she was still there with them. Still gently singing to them as they fought to stay awake, too excited to fall asleep, yet too tired to resist the soothing of the mother. Her real mother. Their mother.

The gunshots, the screaming, the crying. Remembering it all was just so painful, not to mention the pressure on her throat that threatened to suffocate her any minute now. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp again, when he pressed some sort of nerve around her neck. The entire room started to spin like a merry-go-round. Different colored dots sprinkled across her vision as she tried to gasp for air, but the hand on her mouth pressed down even further, almost painfully. Up until now, she had forgotten that she could breathe through her nose, and she took as much air in as she could, replenishing her stifled lungs.

"Having fun, Whit?" The man taunted, angering the girl within his grasp. If only she could talk back, she would give him a piece of her mind, or better yet, her fist.

"You won't be able to get out of this...in fact, I think it's time we left." he pressed down even harder on that little nerve, spiraling Whitney into complete darkness in a matter of seconds. She didn't even have time to realize what the man had done, or even scream, despite how futile that action would be.

Releasing Whitney's throat, the man hastily untangled her from the bundle of sheets. No one would know that she was gone until morning, he created a decent enough distraction downstairs to assure that none of the hospital staff entered her room until then. All her friends had left for some reason, he had nothing to do with that. The parents had left as well, it was rather easy to get rid of them. Then he remembered something...

_The note,_

He almost forgot about the note, he had written it a few weeks ago, just like the note he left in her locker with that locket. The man noticed she was wearing it around her wrist like a bracelet. Of course she would be wearing that thing, he gave it to her. The man untied the golden chain from her wrist, and placed it by the note. They were trying to hide their affections were they? How adorable. Two love-struck teenagers. Not like he didn't know that already. The man had spied on them for some time, learning everything about them. Sometimes he would catch them meeting each other in the middle of the night, talking, hugging...kissing.

The man would watch as they would talk to each other what happened during their days, their troubles, and why they couldn't stand not being able to express their feelings for each other in public. There were some nights when the boy had to leave abruptly, the girl always protested, saying that she wanted to be with him longer, but the boy always apologized and said that he would be back soon. The man tried to follow him a few times, but lost the boy somewhere along the way. The way that the two would spend time with one another was unique, something the man had never seen before. They would just sit together, him holding her, whispering in her ear. He didn't know what he was saying, but whatever it was, it always made the girl smile and snuggle closer.

_Perfectly exploitable,_

There was an old trick, cliché, but very effective. You hurt the girl, you hurt the guy. Simple. The man was going to play that card, use it for his own purposes. He thought of a million things he could do to manipulate the boy into doing what he wanted, love was so easy to manipulate after all.

He tried to get her once, he tried to get them both once, but he failed. He destroyed that woman instead. Completely unplanned, but he got away with it. How they ever recovered from what they saw was beyond him, but now, he was going to make sure the little cretin laying in that bed would be scarred for life. If he couldn't get both of them, why not settle for one? After all, they would both suffer in the end. The other one, the boy, would suffer because of the pain she was going through.

During, and after he had his fun,

The man had already planned this all out, every single day, and every single night. Even though the girl would never know the difference between the two while he had her. She would be so...scared after he was through with her, she would have all sorts of disorders, phobias, and fears they wouldn't be able to diagnose each one. It was truly a shame, she really was a pretty little thing. A life-size porcelain doll, but porcelain is so easy to break, shatter, crack, and make un-repairable.

The man bent down to look at the tormented face of the girl who wouldn't see daylight again for a long time. Was she having a nightmare about him? He hoped so,

She would be waking up to an even worse nightmare...

* * *

The entire staff had spent countless hours working on the mess in the lobby, fixing all the broken machines, and sorting out the misplaced patient files. Over all, it had taken them over seven hours to clear everything up, and the staff was way behind schedule.

Dr. Abbott was doing his morning rounds when he saw it in her room. Room #242, Whitney Stane. When he arrived, the room was empty. Eerily empty. The patient couldn't have walked out on her own, she was too...it just didn't fit her.

Steadying his movements he slowly took the note off of the tack, carefully removing it so it didn't rip. A locket was laying on the pillow, abandoned, initials were carved into the front of a large golden heart.

T & W,

W for Whitney no doubt, but what was the "T" for? Perhaps the boy who visited her? Wasn't his name Tony Stark? He opened the locket, there was no picture, but an engraving,

_Of all the love stories ever written, I love ours the most,_

_I will love you forever._

_T._

The sweet inscription was a beautiful calligraphy inside the heart, a reminder of true love for the owner of the locket, which was obviously Whitney. But who was this "T"? Now he was getting off track, he had to focus on the letter. One of his patients was missing!

He read the note, and his eyes widened...

_Dearest Reader,_

_No doubt if you are reading this, you already know that your precious Whitney is gone. She is with me, and I can assure you that she is not doing well, but she won't die._

_Unless she wants to._

_It's all her choice, depending on her tolerance for pain, and her resolve. Each will be weakened over the next few weeks. Yes, weeks, you will not find her right away._

_In fact, you won't find her at all. I will bring her back when I'm through with her, when she's fully broken. Which might take longer than expected, taking my observations into account, "submit" is not a word present in her vocabulary._

_But it soon will be._

_Understand that once I'm through with her, nothing will be the same in her eyes. Maybe she will be too afraid to even venture outside again, who knows how she will cope._

_I hope you enjoyed reading my letter._

_I'll be in touch,_

_ D. Walsh._

D. Walsh? Someone had kidnapped one of the patients, one of the famous patients too! Oh, that poor girl, she was so sweet. He had to go alert the authorities, this madman was probably hurting her! The doctor's old, creaking bones didn't allow him to run quickly, so he hurried as fast as his body would allow him. Rushing to the security desk on the second floor, the floor he was already on, he told them everything. The first thing they did was, naturally, start freaking out. But they soon got themselves together and contacted the local police, FBI, and even the CIA were alerted to the kidnapping. The top intelligence agencies in the world were looking for this man, even Interpol had him on their alert list!

Everything about "D. Walsh" screamed sociopath. Walsh was accused, and tried of countless murders, crimes, and misdemeanors. He was even tried on a juvenile charges of animal abuse. Expected. People like him usually start with animals, and then progress to...humans. Unfortunate. His file stated that he had an extremely promising future, such a high IQ, but such a pained past. His parents were abusive, Walsh and his younger brother were tormented for years under their authority, until they took it too far.

Walsh's brother died of his injuries in the basement, because their parents refused to give them the proper care. Walsh and his brother suffered from malnutrition, multiple cigarette burns, bruises, and several contusions. Four days before Walsh's brother died, his parents left them locked in the basement, leaving them there while they left the state. Walsh stayed in the dark room for about a week after his brother's death until one of the neighbors noticed the parents still gone, and went down to the basement. Discovering the bruised Walsh, and the corpse of his brother. During the abuse, Walsh had taken up releasing his anger out on animals, all types. He would take them to an old, abandoned warehouse, and do all sorts of different things to them. Horrific things.

Years after the "incident" his parents were found dead, their bodies nearly unrecognizable. He had done terrible things to them before they died, too terrible to speak of.

That poor girl.

Seconds after the law enforcement agencies had been notified of the girl's disappearance, there was a leak of information. The media got a hold of this, and had begun to broadcast the news on their early morning shows. It was about seven o'clock. Hopefully, they would be able to find her...before Walsh was able to do any _permanent_ damage.

* * *

The trio was sitting in the Rhodes house living room, waiting out the hour before they headed off to school.

"It's going to be weird without Whit there with us, for me anyway." Pepper skimmed through her Physics book, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"The day will probably go by fast enough. If the hospital had morning visiting hours, Tony would be there." Rhodey said, nodding towards the nervous boy to his left.

"Very funny." Tony continued his pacing,

"You're going to wear a trench in the carpet." Rhodey joked,

Without warning Roberta came into the living room, phone in one hand, and looking extremely troubled.

"Mom?"

"Something...happened." Roberta started, finding it impossible to continue, "Whitney."

Tony stopped his pacing to stare, the one name he did not want to hear. All night he kept thinking about her, horrified that something might happen to her in the middle of the night, and he wouldn't be there. He dreamt of losing her to another panic attack, that she tried to call out for him, but he couldn't reach her, and she slipped away without saying goodbye. They came one after the other, different scenarios of her death. The next more terrifying than the last.

"What happened to her?" he asked, slightly frantic.

"The hospital just called, she's missing..."

* * *

Whitney woke up to complete darkness, but her eyes were wide open.

"H-hello?" she croaked, the nightmare she just had fresh in her memory. No one answered, so she called again, even louder. No answer. Fear enveloping her body, she tried to stand up, and look for someone. The darkness made it hard to see as she shakily got to her feet. Where was she? Everything was so dark, and cold, and the fact that she had nothing on her feet didn't help much. Thank goodness she wasn't wearing a hospital gown, or else the cold would be unbearable!

When she tried to take a step, something was holding her back. She pulled, and tugged at her leg, but it wouldn't budge. All she got from her movements was a light _clink_. She was chained to the wall! Oh, sweet nectar, this wasn't good, not good at all!

Terrified, she tried to call out again, "Is anyone there? Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, are you there? Hello!" she called, sheer terror overcame her as she heard a door unlock.

"Who's there?" yelled in the direction of the sound, backing up until she hit the concrete wall holding her chain. It hadn't dawned on her until she hit the wall that she was actually, truly _chained_ to it. Well, her leg was anyway. She braced her arms against the wall, steadying herself for whomever was going to come through, but she did have a rough of idea of who it was.

"I was wondering if I pressed down too hard, you didn't wake up for a while, I was starting to get anxious." The voice. It was Walsh! He sounded so close to her, and the worst part was, this wasn't a nightmare. This was real, and her friends had no idea where she was.

"Oh, no." she tried to inch her way across the wall. It was still dark, he couldn't see her, but she couldn't see either. She glided her hands across the smooth surface, until the chain allowed her to go no further. It was like she was on a leash. A leash! Once she could get a good aim, she was going to kick that guy straight in the gut. Ten times.

"Contrary to your theory, I can see you. I'm used to this you know. This is my home." The voice got even closer, dangerously closer. She felt a hand grab her wrist, and it twisted. A small cry of pain left her mouth as he forced her cheek up against the wall with her hand painfully twisted behind her, pressing into her spine. The shackle on her ankle prevented her foot from turning with her, making it difficult to knock Walsh's legs out from under him. Of which she wanted to do _very badly. _

"I used to only hurt animals, but they got boring." he twisted her arm even further, "Sure they all screamed, but do you know what they couldn't do?" he kept turning, "They couldn't beg." What? He expected her to beg? It hurt, sure, she would admit that, but she did not beg. Ever. And she would never. Especially to this creep.

The man finally let go of her, and she spun around to face him, holding her injured wrist to her chest, and glaring at the man with pure hatred. If looks could kill, Walsh would be stabbed, shot, hung, and in a burning volcano by now.

"That arm of yours will be the least of your worries, I'll make sure of that. But we will start off slow, so you can...accumulate your injuries." The voice came even closer, and she slid down the wall to the floor. Hoping to get a better angle at his feet, once he was down, he wouldn't be getting up for a while. A long while.

"Don't tell me you're submitting already? I hoped that we would at least have a few weeks together before that happens, but, you can't win them all." Submit? Heck. To. The. N. O. What she _was _going to do was pummel the living daylights out of the monster. He killed Maria. Whitney wasn't afraid of him anymore, she would never be afraid of him as long as the hate burning inside her didn't diminish.

Whitney pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, making herself as small as possible, and trying to look scared. Giving her captor false security. "I-if th-this is a-about money, I can-"

"Oh, no, it's not about that. You see, I never leave a job unfinished, so I had to come back to finish it. You do remember me, don't you?" The man got down on his knees in front of her, she could tell. Perfect. One sharp blow to the face, and she would break his nose. Clenching a fist, she brought it around to his face, hitting the man squarely on the nose. It might have not been the wisest thing to do, but it felt so good to finally receive that closure she had longed for throughout all those years.

"Take that you-you horrible murderer!" she screamed as he got up, and clutched his broken nose. She didn't care what he did to her after that, as long as he suffered just a little bit.

And he laughed...

"Still mad about losing your "mother"? he snapped it back into place, "Killing her wasn't that hard, but you won't get the luxury of a bullet," Walsh knelt back down, pinning her arms above her head to avoid any further damage to his face, "_You _will die _slowly_, but you won't die here. The rest of your pathetic little life will be miserable, absolutely miserable, you'll be haunted every night of the horrors I put you through in this very room. And all of your friends will suffer along with you because they will always see the pain you're in." Walsh returned her hate-fueled gaze, "You know what, I've given you too much freedom," Whitney's eyes narrowed, she kept trying to get her legs into a position to knock him off her.

The man let go of her arms,

"Big mistake." She moved a fist to punch him again, when a sharp pain took over her nerves. It was an intense, focused, _burning_ pain. Her side felt like it was on fire...electricity...

"You're the first one I've tried this on," he pushed it against her side even more, making Whitney cry out in pain, "I just fixed it yesterday, it took me so long, but I wanted to have it when I brought you here, just in case you decide to do something stupid. Like punching me in the face." The pain increased, and she collapsed to the cold, stone floor, still screaming.

"But I don't want to keep your screams all to myself, that would be selfish, and I bet your friends are worried about you." It couldn't have been possible, but the pain kept increasing. She shouldn't have hit him, it wasn't worth the pain, no matter how good it felt.

After what seemed like hours of the electricity surging through her body, he finally took whatever it was away from her side. Whitney gasped for air, but she just couldn't get enough. Her mind barely registered her hands behind her back.

Walsh tied her hands together, permanently disabling any more feeble attacks from the girl,

"Now that we have that little problem squared away," he kicked her ribs, causing her to cry in pain again, "Why don't we call you friends, and you can tell them _exactly _what I'm going to do to you."

Whitney just laid there, panting, trying to gain back full function of her brain from the agonizing shock. The man yanked her up by her hands, pulling at the rope around her wrists so she fell backwards.

"I suggest you make it convincing, or I will _help_ you make it convincing."

The numerous nightmares replayed in her mind, and she nodded.

"Good," he pulled her up, and forced her against the wall, "And remember, if you can't make it convincing enough, we get to meet Sparky again." he said as if he were talking to a child as he waved the miniature prod in front of her face. Whitney flinched, she didn't want "Sparky" anywhere near her _face_ after what it had done to her side.

"Ok-okay," she shrunk back,

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." Walsh sing-songed as he waltzed out of the room.

The pain eating away at her waist dulled to a throbbing pain, but it was still too much,

Did Tony already know she was missing? Who was looking for her, if anyone? How long was she supposed to stay in this...torture chamber...with that...she couldn't think about it anymore, all she wanted was to be in Tony's comforting arms again, instead of being stuck in this damp, freezing death trap. She whimpered as she realized what was going to happen to her, she was going to be in pain. Unbearable, excruciating pain, and worst of all...

_Tony was going to hear her scream..._

* * *

All three of the teenagers were asking questions, bombarding Roberta with things she couldn't answer.

"I don't know, all they told me is that they discovered a note, and a locket in her room, and that she wasn't there. That's all I know." she tried not to tell them what the note said, they just couldn't handle it.

They all exchanged hopeless glances, and Tony's phone rang, but he didn't answer it.

But it just kept ringing...

"Go ahead." Rhodey said, looking downcast.

Pepper sunk back down on the couch, school long forgotten.

Tony sighed as he plucked the phone from his pocket, not looking forward to talking to whomever was on the other line,

"Hello?"

_"T-Tony? I-It's me, W-Whitney." _ he heard sobbing from the other side, it couldn't have been Whitney, it wasn't possible.

"Whitney?" Tony exclaimed, holding the phone tighter. Pepper jumped off the couch, and everyone stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Tony? Is that-" Roberta started,

Then he heard what sounded like a scream...a loud, ear-piercing scream...his knees went weak, "Whitney! Whitney, are you there?" There was no one else in the room except him, he couldn't see anything.

A small crackle of static, _"I-I'm here...Oh Tony, don't let him br-r-ring that thing n-n-near me! No, please!" _

"Sweetie, are you hurt? Did they hurt you?" Tonywas truly frantic now, hearing the sobs coming from the other line...from his Whitney was too much.

Another scream,_ "Tony, I...c-c-can't...I'm so sorry, I'm s-...s-so...sorry." _The voice got weaker,

"Whit, listen to me, okay? Just concentrate on my voice. Tell me where you are, and we'll come and get you, just-"

He was interrupted by another cry of pain, _"T-Tony...pl-please...he-" _The voice was so weak...and it just stopped.

"Whitney! No. No, come on, sweetie, come back!"

_"I'm afraid your Whitney is... unavailable at the moment." _Another voice took over the other line. A hauntingly familiar one.

"What did you do to her?!" he yelled into the phone. If this was the man hurting her, if this was the man who had been hurting her all along...

_"Just a little shock, that's all. To make her pleas more...convincing."_

"Who are you?"

"Can't you remember my voice?"

"You know what? You're sick, and when I find you, I'm going to-"

_"What? Tear me to shreds? Come up with something a little more original. Look, you want her back, don't you? I _was_ planning on returning her after I was finished, but I'm not sure now. I think I just might keep her, as my own personal little guinea pig."_

"You sick, twisted-"

_"Name-calling? I don't think Whitney would like that." _A tiny, frightened whimper could be heard over the phone.

"Just...I want her back, tell me what you want and I'll give it to you, just stop hurting her." he pleaded. Whitney shouldn't even be in this situation in the first place, they should be at school, laughing and joking together. She didn't deserve all the pain.

_"How sweet, you two looked so adorable together. Notice the _past_ tense?"_

"H-how do you know-"

_"I know everything about you two."_

"E-everything?" Tony gulped. Everything? Including...

_"Everything I need to know, that is. Tell me, where do you scamper off to in the middle of the night?"_

"I...don't know what you're talking about."

_"Oh, I think you do. Maybe...Whitney knows." _The man threatened,

"She doesn't! I swear!" he tried to defend her, help her, perhaps save her from the inevitable pain. She didn't know, he never got the chance to tell her.

_"How are you so sure? She does have a habit of finding out things that she shouldn't, right darling?"_

_"No! Tony! Tony, please! Don't let him hurt me, don't let him come near me!" _ Whitney sounded terrified, unlike herself, mere seconds away from shattering.

"What do you want to know..."

* * *

**Hey, I just met you,**_  
_

**And this is crazy,**

**But I need some help with this story,**

**So PM me maybe? **

**Couldn't resist...but seriously, I do need help with the armor scenes...I'm just not good at them. At. All.**


	8. Chapter 8: Reveal

**A/N I am so, so sorry about the delay! School has been absolutely insane for me, and I keep rewriting entire chapters. I'm sorry! Oh, and the first part of this chapter is kind of...intense. I don't like it, and I hate doing that to my characters, it's just not...me. **

**I'm also writing three one-shots right now. They might be up sometime next week, I'm not sure, it all depends. They're romantic. My favorite type of story ever! **

* * *

Not again.

That's all Whitney could think as the man approached her, the small device in hand. She tried to squirm away, but Walsh grabbed her ankle, and yanked her back. She could feel the warm sensation of blood on her thigh, where he had repeatedly shocked her, and now he was going to do it again. Why couldn't he just stop? She didn't want to scream anymore, she didn't want Tony to hear her cries anymore, and she didn't want to beg anymore. She just wanted to be safe. Safe at home with her friends, they were her family.

The man continued to talk with Tony, "What I want to know is," he pressed it deep into her shoulder,

She wanted to fight back, and protect herself, she loathed the man. Completely, and entirely, with everything she had. But the hate was starting to be replaced by fear. Whitney struggled against the tight chains on her wrists, pulling and tugging, but never making any progress. He wouldn't get her so easily, but every ounce of strength was being drained out of her body. She couldn't take much more of this.

"How much is she worth to you?" The device flicked on with a slight whir, sending bolts of electricity through her shoulder. How many times had the man done this already? Five, six, maybe even seven times? Each time she was determined not to scream, but it felt like flames were licking at her shoulder, and every single place where he shocked her. Especially her side.

"Because I think I'm starting to like her," Walsh trailed the device down her spine, to settle in the middle of her back, "She has such wonderful screams." he shocked her until she couldn't feel her back. Every time the device went on, she screamed, the pain engulfing every part of her body. Passing out was so close, yet so devastatingly far away. She wanted to pass out, she needed her screams to stop. Tony couldn't be a part of this, he couldn't know about her pain, she needed to keep him safe. He couldn't look for her himself, he would get killed, but if he knew she was hurting, he wouldn't hesitate to put himself in danger. And that's what she couldn't let happen.

"...Relax, I'm sure she won't die, unless I want her to." Whitney felt the tip of the device on her cheek, "And I don't want her to leave just yet, you see, I haven't had any fun over the last few months. I've been tucked away in here, preparing for our mutual friend's visit. I want to play with her a little."

Whitney could hear Tony's pleading through the phone, and she tried to console him, "I...I'm o-okay...d-d-don't worr-" she was interrupted by another shock to her side.

"It's rude to interrupt Whitney, darling." Walsh purred as he continued to electrocute the girl. Her screams echoed off the walls, and she started to writhe in pain as the electricity kept rushing through her nerves.

"Aww, poor thing. Can you hear her Tony?" The shock kept coming, and Whitney kept screaming. Why didn't it stop?

"I'm surprised she hasn't passed out yet. How long do you think she can stand it? One minute, maybe even two?" Two minutes? She was on fire! She couldn't last another second!

Thick, crimson liquid now coated her thigh, trickling down her leg, the constant electricity cutting the skin. After what seemed like hours, the shock finally ceased. Whitney groaned, still in intense pain.

"And we haven't even gotten to the good stuff, don't tell me you're give up already. Although I don't care either way." The man pulled Whitney to her knees, causing her to gasp in pain, "Do you want to talk to Tony some more?" he was close to her ear, much too close. He tugged her head back by her hair, making it fall back onto the man's shoulder, and he placed the phone by her ear.

_"Whit, I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm so sorry."_ Tony apologized, close to tears, from the other end. She didn't want this, him to know she was in pain, and oh _was_ she! The way that Walsh positioned her, she bent backwards slightly, hurting her damaged spine. Whitney felt the device poking at her back again, circling around her motor pathway. If he shocked her enough there...she knew the effects, and the man probably knew them as well. If he hit the right spot, the pathway would be damaged, possibly causing paralysis. _Permanent_ paralysis.

"I would suggest that you say something." The man pushed the device harder into her spine,

"I-I...yo-you don't ha-have to be s-sorry." Whitney's voice was raspy from all the screaming, "D-don't li-listen t-to him, d-d-don't g-give him an-anything, Tony."

"You really want to do that?" Walsh moved the taser to her neck, "Apparently, you don't understand what I can do to you." his fingers hovered over the button, "I have more in this room then little Sparky here."

Whitney locked her jaw for the inevitable shock, but it never came.

"Hmm, it seems that little Whitney here needs another form of punishment. Wouldn't you agree, Tony?" The man held her around her waist with his other arm, the one that wasn't holding the device, "What do you think I should do? She has a lot of options, I could disable the pressure points in her feet, slowly. Or I can beat her to a bloody pulp. Oh, I almost forgot, this one is my favorite. I could break her ribs. You choose."

"D-d-don't li-listen to him Tony! Ple-please d-"

The man flicked the device back on, electrocuting the top of her shoulder. Whitney screamed as she slumped forward, panting for air.

"Remember what I said about interrupting? But now that you mention it, I do need a little something to continue my _pet_ projects. You know where this is going, don't you? Well, I'll ask you again, how much is she worth to you?"

"Tony...please."

The man shocked her again,

"Interrupting."

The only thing keeping Whitney from collapsing to the concrete below was Walsh's arm around her waist, steadily holding her close. Too close.

"I'm afraid that won't do...yes, th-"

"N-n-no...d-don't...p-p-pay him...an-any-anything."

"Do you like being electrocuted, huh? Keep quiet or I'll sow your mouth shut!" The man shocked her side, then dug his fingernails into the still bleeding wound on her thigh, "Now, where were we?"

"H-h-hang up! D-d-do it, Tony, j-just ha-hang up!" Whitney screamed, "Y-you have t-to let m-me go!"

"You just don't learn, do you? Oh, well, you've just lost your walking ability for the next few months." The man simply sighed, "Do I have to chain you back up too?"

Go. To. Hell." Whitney said through gritted teeth, keeping her voice perfectly level, filling it with hate.

"Tsk, tsk, such awful language from such a young girl." The man scolded, tugging her back against his chest, "You really shouldn't test me, sweetheart. I've been rather kind until now, but if you continue to defy me, you might lose a fingernail." he let his lips linger near her ear, "Although I hate having to ruin such a pretty little hand."

Whitney shut her eyes, blocking out the man, and everything around her. She could hear Tony yelling through the phone, chances are he heard what Walsh had said, and he didn't like it. No, he probably hated it...and the man knew! Walsh was playing them! And they were falling straight into his game.

"I-I-It's a p-pl-play Ky-Tony, all a-"

Walsh's grip around her stomach tightened, and the device pressed on her foot.

"Do you ever learn?" The man flicked it back on, sending more volts through her already breaking body. She couldn't do this anymore. She tried, but the pain...

Whitney slumped backwards, falling onto Walsh more.

"That's what I want. Are you breaking, Whitney, _sweetie?_"

_Sweetie..._that's Tony's pet name for her! No, he couldn't call her that, she couldn't let him break her.

"N-n-no." Whitney's chest heaved up and down, fighting to keep breathing, just to stay awake.

"If only you could see her now, so hurt, she's breaking, Tony. That little light is dwindling in her eyes, I can see it." The man whispered, drawing small patterns on her stomach with his fingers, making her flinch.

"S-stop...ple-please...le-let me...g-go h-ho-home." her voice was small, and breathy.

"I just need to push her over the edge...there's nothing you can do now. Nice try, but your proposal bores me, I want to focus on Whit here. I've never had someone like her in my playroom before. Bye now!" Walsh clicked the phone off without hesitation, "How are we doing with our little defiance problems?"

"Y-you w-w-won't get t-to me s-so-" A small groan of pain, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she finally passed out.

The man sighed, "I have to keep my promise about your legs, don't I? I could just use the pressure points, avoid the mess, and bodily harm. If I get tired of her, they would pay more." Walsh hooked one arm under her knees, another under her shoulders, and continued to talk to himself, "But I want her to be awake when I do it...better not."

The man placed her down, grasping the chain around her wrists and tugging them up over her head, "Hmm, I would like to use the needles this time, they're so much more efficient. And then I don't have to worry about the mess." he attached the chain to a hook above her head, the man had done this many times before, he knew exactly what to do.

He trailed his fingers down her cheek, "This won't take long, Whit, I'll be right back."

The girl didn't stir,

Even when the man had finished with the procedure, Whitney still didn't wake up.

"Maybe I shocked her a little too much." The man shook her, "Wake up!"

Whitney screamed as she awoke, breathing heavily. She stared down at her bare feet that were leaking blood, "Oh, no! No, no, no, no." she repeated, trying to move her feet, but found that they wouldn't budge, "Please, please," Whitney hyperventilated.

"Calm down, that's only temporary. You'll be able to move them, you just won't be able to walk. Which means you can't get away from me." Walsh brushed Whitney's matted hair out of her face, "You have beautiful eyes," he traced the outline of her jaw, "You won't leave here until your mine, and then you won't want to leave. You'll stay with me, here, I've always wanted an assistant."

Whitney began to shiver, "Let me go, I won't tell anyone your name, I won't tell them anything about you. I just want Tony."

Walsh's eyes narrowed, he backhanded her, and her head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, "Never say that name again! You're mine now, not his!" he held her chin, "I won't tolerate defiance from you. Understood?"

"Y-yes." she answered meekly, she struggled to not let the terror take over her mind. She had a plan.

"Good. I will be gentle, I can be gentle, just coöperate with me." he soothed her burning cheek, "You'll learn to be happy here, my Whitney. My little Princess in her tower." Walsh kissed her forehead, "I'll untie you, but if you try anything, I will be forced to punish you."

Whitney forced herself not to flinch away, "Why do you want me? You should kill me, right now." she prayed this would work, it had to.

She had to gain his trust, and once her feet healed she would get away. There had to be some way out of here! She knew Tony had a plan to get her out of here, he loved her, he had to be tracking that phone call right now! Whitney knew Tony, he wouldn't just sit down and let the police do all the work. In his opinion, they probably weren't doing enough. She snapped back out of her thoughts when she heard Walsh speak.

"I'm fascinated by you, Whitney. I used to have a sister, and a brother. Until_ they_ took them away from me. She looked a lot like you, the same eyes, the same hair, everything. I want you to stay with me. I wanted you both to stay with me, you two remind me of my siblings." Walsh reached up to undo the chains around her wrists, "She had the same feisty, yet sweet personality, and that's what got her killed."

"So you are going to kill me."

"No, no, I was telling you the story. I was so rough with you, and when you...Cassidy died in my arms just like that. When I saw you, I saw her."

"Oh."

"You're being such a good girl. You remind me so much of my sister. She loved robotics too, you know, she loved to tinker with them. But _he_ destroyed all of her work after they killed her, and all evidence that she ever existed. No one knew she was even alive. The police never found her, but I did, I buried her." The man finished untying her hands, he removed the chain and placed it beside him.

Whitney rubbed her wrists, trying to soothe the burning.

"You do look a lot like her, especially now that you're almost grown up. I wish I could have had you sooner, you would have become accustomed to me already, then we wouldn't have to worry about these trifle formalities." Walsh sighed for the third time, "Who knew that a simple job would lead me to you? I guess you never know."

Whitney...was beyond freaked out. She wanted to run inside of a tiny box, and hide there for all eternity, but she had to earn his trust. He had to trust her no matter how much she hated using people, after all, the man _was_ a psychopath, she wasn't doing any harm. At least, she thought he was a psychopath. Psychopathy was a very complex disorder, and she didn't have the brain power to diagnose it at the moment.

"I-I supp-pose you don't," she purposefully stuttered, false security, make herself look weak, and scared.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore, unless you disobey me, then I will be forced to punish you. I won't like it, but I will have to." The man stroked her hair tenderly. She wanted to run into that little box, like..._now_.

Whitney didn't see the needle, she didn't see it when it punctured her arm. She felt it. She felt the contents of the syringe being forced into her bloodstream, its clear liquid invading her body.

"This will make you go to sleep. You won't feel a thing." Walsh soothed, removing the needle, still petting her hair.

"Wh-what?" The effects of the drug were already taking place, she felt tired, numb, and she could barely talk.

"We're leaving, I'm taking you someplace else, someplace better." he caught the girl as she fell to the side, shaking her head vigorously.

"You will be happy, trust me."

She held on as long as she could, fighting the drug until she had nothing left, but it was useless. Whitney closed her eyes, and let it overtake her. They had to find her...

_They had to._

* * *

Tony apologized to Roberta, and stormed out of the house. Half-angry, half-upset, and all around confused. He wanted Whitney, that's all...and he refused. And she screamed. That still haunted him. Their entire conversation haunted him.

Rhodey, and Pepper had apologized as well, and followed. They knew where he was going.

Tony ran inside the armory, and immediately headed for the computer. He set it to track the phone call, and to find Whitney. If she still had the locket, they would find her. He inserted a tracking chip inside of it after he bought it, knowing one day it might come in handy.

Pepper, and Rhodey burst through the door just a few minutes behind him, completely out of breath.

He knew what they were going to say...

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!" Tony raised his voice, frustrated at everything the police were doing. He called him. That maniac called him, and made her scream. In pain. Whitney was in pain. He couldn't just stand by, and watch that-that psychopath kill her! The NYPD were useless! Absolutely useless! What in the world were they doing? He could find her, he would find her, without them.

"One: he'll know. Two: he'll know. Three: it's a bad idea." Rhodey regained his breath, and answered, countering his friend's livid tone with a calm one.

"They know who it is, and they refuse to tell us! They refuse to do anything about it, and Whitney is suffering, you know she is!

"Both of you...shut up!" Pepper shouted above the arguing, both of the boys turned around, "Thank you for your attention, and now, we do something about this."

"Hey, I'm all for finding Whitney, but the guy's a freak, he'll know if we're trying to track him."

"It's worth the risk." Tony mumbled,

"Yeah, my dad's working on the case, and the police are doing nothing! How twisted is that?" Pepper huffed, slightly tapping her foot in anxiety, "Tony...what was that phone call about?"

Tony stiffened, he never wanted to think about that again. The screams still echoed in his mind, how she shouted at him through her pain, telling him to hang up, of all things. He was going to find her...and possibly murder the person who was doing this to her.

"You don't want to know."

"Okay," Pepper dropped the subject, observing Tony's tenseness.

Every word rang through his ears, every sentence. Tony offered the man everything he had, and the man refused, saying that he wanted to "focus" on her. He did _not_ want to know what the man meant by that. If he found out, he was going to commit murder. Not good. Nope. He would avoid thinking about that...for the man's sake.

"You should go home, Tony. We need to figure out a plan, and we can't do that while we're anxious like this." Rhodey pointed out, an obvious reference to Pepper.

"Yeah, I guess I should. But-"

"We've got it." Pepper said, smiling faintly.

"And-"

"We've got it." Pepper said again, putting much more emphasis into the words.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Tony walked out the door, never once meeting their eyes as he passed.

"You think he'll be okay?" Pepper asked worriedly.

"No. Honestly, no." Rhodey replied,

"I thought so. You think we should follow him?"

"We've got work to do, remember?"

"I haven't forgotten."

* * *

Tony walked blindly down the sidewalk, hands shoved carelessly in his pockets, lost in thought.

_"Tony, this is Whitney, her family just moved here. Her dad works with Daddy, she's your age, dear. Go on, it's okay." his mother's sweet, calming voice said, holding "Whitney's" hand, gently urging her forward. Tony didn't have many friends, just Rhodey, that was it. And he had never met a girl before. They all thought he was weird, he wasn't weird, just different. He saw the girl take a small step forward, her eyes down, barely meeting his. He tilted his head, and tried to smile, she was probably just shy. Like him. To his delight she smiled back, and lifted her head, directly meeting his eyes. _

_"Hi," Whitney spoke first, the shyness still present, but not as prominent. _

_"Hi," Tony said back, trying to maintain a smile. He didn't want to scare her off, she seemed nice._

_"Do you like to play chess?" The girl asked with a slight, playful tilt of her head._

_"Nobody ever plays it with me." he answered, staring at the ground. He found that he couldn't look at her anymore. It was kind of strange. _

_"I'll play it with you, it's my favorite game!" The shyness disappeared, she sounded happy. Maybe they could be friends._

_"We have a board upstairs, we can use that." _

_"Okay!" The girl grabbed his hand, and started running toward the stairs with him in tow. _

She was so different from the moment he met her. So vivid, and special. So wonderful.

_"But we aren't supposed to do that!" he argued,_

_Whitney continued climbing the gigantic oak tree, "Nobody said we couldn't, besides, if we weren't supposed to, then somebody would have said something by now." she argued back, _

_"You're going to fall!"_

_"No, I'm not. I learned how to do this already, all it takes is-"_

Whitney had lost her balance, and fell to the grass below, breaking her ankle in two places. She barely cried. She was different, like he was.

_"I'll be back soon, Whit." Tony consoled, silently begging his friend not to cry. This was the first time he had ever left the country, without Whitney. They had always gone together, always together, and it was usually for the weekend, just for a little fun. But now it was for three weeks, an entire month without Rhodey, and Whitney. _

_"That's the thing, what if you don't?" Whitney let the tears well up in her eyes._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I'm scared. You're my best friend, ever, and I'm just worried." she dropped her head to stare at the ground._

_"Don't be," he lifted her chin with two fingers, "Hey, it's perfectly safe. If it wasn't, they wouldn't let us on the thing, right? I mean, the entire security team checked it over three times." Tony put his arms around her, and it felt...different. He found himself noticing the smell of her hair, that precious lavender scent, and somehow...it became the most amazing thing in the world._

_"Call me when you get there, okay?" she kept her arms around him, "And tell me what it looks like." Whitney let go, wiping the tears away. _

_"I'll do that." Tony missed that, he missed having her in his arms, and he had no idea why._

_Whitney hugged him again before nodding her head towards the readying plane on the tarmac, "Your dad's waiting Tony," _

_"Right." he backed up, taking one last look at Whitney before running off to join his dad._

_"Don't forget to call me!" she shouted after him, and he turned around to see a sad smile on her face. He didn't want to leave her..._

He never wanted to leave her...

_"Do you really think this is a good idea, we both know that sneaking around like this-" Whitney glanced around nervously,_

_"No one will know, Whit. Remember that time when you broke that vase-" Tony was interrupted,_

_"I wouldn't have broken it if you didn't threaten to pummel me with those chess pieces." _

_"All is fair in love, and chess."_

_"Idiot."_

_"But it worked though,"_

_"What worked?"_

_"I got you to relax,"_

_All Whitney did was roll her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips._

_"Whit?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"If you don't want to do this, it's fine."_

_"No, no, I didn't mean that. I meant that if we decide to keep it a secret, we've got to stick to it, we have to be careful from now on."_

_"I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with this."_

_"I'm fine, Tony. I want to, that's why I said yes." she leaned in, and he had to back up. He didn't want her to think that he didn't like it, in fact, he liked it too much. Tony knew that he would have kissed her, right then, if he didn't put some distance between them._

_"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting we're on a date," Whitney scooted back, blushing profusely. _

_"It's okay, I forgot too," he admitted, _

_"It's easy to forget, isn't it?" _

_"Yeah,"_

_"Tony, do you really think that we could make it?"_

_"Make it to what?"_

_"To the end. I don't want to be in a relationship if that's not the goal."_

_"That's what I want, I want to make it to the end." _

_Tony reached for her hand, and intertwined their fingers for the first time. Well, not counting all those times when they were younger, but those times didn't count, they were just playmates then, but now they were together. One of the most awkward, yet euphoric feelings Tony had ever felt..._

* * *

That first hand-hold was the beginning of several. They were always holding hands when they were together, it was like second nature to them, they both just loved the feeling they got from it. Togetherness.

He missed her, everything about her. The shy smile, the twinkling eyes, everything. You never know what you've got 'til it's gone...

A familiar ringing filled his ears, his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. His hand wrapped around the phone, and pulled it out.

_Pepper,_

Taking a deep breath, he answered,

"Yeah, Pep?" he asked, barely keeping the despair out of his voice.

_"Guess what?" _An excited Pepper asked over the phone.

"Pepper, I _really_ don't want to,"

"Right, sorry, but you won't believe what we found!"

"Pepper,"

_"Right. So, straight to the point, we found Whitney!"_

We found Whitney,

Those words echoed in his mind, blocking the repeated screams. A spark of hope, and a hint of disbelief flickered in his soul,

"You what?" he couldn't believe it, Rhodey, and Pepper were able to pinpoint her location. She was alive. Hopefully she would stay that way until he found her.

_"You aren't going to like how though."_

"Pepper!"

_"Okay, okay! Gosh. Well, the man's name is Walsh, and he's a total creep. He sent some note to one of his clients-"_

"Clients?"

_"More like a colleague. It turns out that this Walsh guy is a hit man, or was a hit man before he went completely bonkers. Anyway, you might want to take a look at this."_

"I'll be right there!"

Tony ran back towards the armory, never stopping, not even to take a breath.

_He was going to find her, no matter what._

* * *

**A/N Okay, so the ending is horrible. I don't like this chapter...I just don't.**_  
_

**This story has gotten over 200 views! My goodness, thank you all so much! I'm so incredibly happy, and excited, and just wow!**

**...I should probably calm down now.**


	9. Chapter 9: A Certain Scheme

**A/N I am so, so sorry for making you all wait so long! School has been an absolute nightmare! It's really hard to maintain decent grades with everything I have to study. Ah, well, enough venting for me, you all have been so patient, not to mention kind. I am really, super thankful for everyone who reads my story!  
**

* * *

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, "And it gets worse, doesn't it?"

Rhodey, and Pepper had just finished informing Tony of everything they discovered it was...depressing. Simply depressing. Every word his friends spoke made him doubt that he would ever get her back. It turns out that "Dalton Walsh", or whatever that freak's name was, had been on the run for years, switching identities, personas, even appearances to stay ahead of the law. Walsh was a hit man after all. He knew that all too well. And with Whitney's abduction-oh, how he hated that word!-it became even more of a painful reality.

A very painful reality.

The past two days had been a living hell for him, watching Whitney unravel in mere hours, disappearing in the middle of the night. He thought that if he had stayed with her, this wouldn't have happened. That if Rhodey had handled the robbery downtown instead of him, then she would still be here. But he shoots that theory down every time He knows the man would've killed him, or just taken them both, but it doesn't stop him from thinking that he could've done something. Anything. Whitney was suffering because of him. She was being tortured by a maniac because he left her. He swore to never leave her, and he did. He left her when she needed him most. There was a definite possibility that she was going to _die_ because of him.

"It's not that bad," Tony shot her a glare, "Okay, so it is." Pepper admitted,

"The guy could be worse, you know." Rhodey tried to lighten the mood,

"How? This "Walsh" character is the definition of twisted. Who knows what he's-I'm not even going to think about it."

"It says here he was some sort of chemist."

"Oh, wonderful, he's probably poisoning her! Or..._worse_." Tony unwillingly thought of hundreds of different toxins "Walsh" could've used.

There was this one mixture that could cause permanent blindness, he gulped, there was another one that caused blindness, a burning sensation, and complete paralysis.

Why did he have to think of that now? He felt sick, really, really sick.

Another mixture could cause adrenaline to run through her bloodstream, making it impossible for her to...pass out.

Oh, boy.

Another one could cause intense pain, and there was this one...that could cause an unbearable, agonizing, throbbing pain through her nervous system.

He couldn't do this anymore, just thinking about all the possible things that twisted psychopath could do to his Whitney was making him light-headed.

"Hey, guys?" Tony's voice cracked,

"Don't worry about it, I talked with Mom, and she understands. But she also said to not do it again." Rhodey informed,

"No, I didn't mean that. I just...you didn't hear that phone call, Rhodey," Tony's voice quaked, "She screamed, she...was hurt, and...he-that-and he didn't stop...he wanted to keep her...like a guinea pig...she told me to...hang up...she's not...she's not going to come back...I-I don't think I can...find her in time."

Tony swallowed, "Why did I leave her? If I stayed then...then he wouldn't have...she would be here...I would have...she would...she would have seen this place already...she would have known, but, now...she's not...he has her, and I can't, I can't work without her. I need her. What if I can't save her? What if she...what if I get there, and it's too late, and I find her...dead...what if she's...dying...and she dies while I'm there...what if she...what if she dies in my arms...and I-I can't live without her. I can't. She's only been gone for a few hours, and I'm-" Tony was halted by a sharp blow to the side of his head.

Pepper had punched him!

"Pepper!" Rhodey shouted, slightly appalled by the amount of force used.

"Snap out of it!" Pepper ordered, "You're a mess, a walking mess! If you don't get your sorry self together Whitney doesn't have a chance, understand? Listen to me, and listen carefully. You will get your act together, or so help me, I will give you a black eye! I understand what you're going through, really, but we need you right now. Whitney needs you. You can't feel sorry for yourself, you have to focus. For all our sakes," she straightened out, "I'll get off my soap box now."

Tony's eyes were saucers as he rubbed his burning cheek, "You're," he sighed, "You're right, Pep. I guess I was just scared for her."

"I know. I'm sorry I had to punch you,"

"Don't worry about it, it helped."

"Now that we're all back to normal," Rhodey interjected,

"Right, and I'm sure it won't bruise or anything." Pepper assured,

"That's not really at the top of my list right now."

"Anyway," Rhodey fought the urge to roll his eyes,

"The computer picked up two different locations, one for Whitney, and another for the phone call."

"Which is kind of weird since they should_ technically_ be in the same place, right?" Pepper inquired,

"The locket probably dropped when he...took her." Tony shut his eyes for a second,

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you put a tracking device in the necklace? Pepper asked, failing to conceal a playful edge to her voice.

"I put a tracker in the locket because I knew that one day she might get into trouble. Knowing Whitney and how you two like to get into things you shouldn't." Tony mentally winced after he realized the man had said those exact words.

"Like hacking into government databases." Rhodey added,

"Hey, it's come in handy! Besides, I don't do it all the time, just when I'm bored."

"_Sure_. I'll check out the phone call." Tony said, mood lifting from his friend's light-hearted banter.

"Is there some reason you want to take the phone call first?"

"No."

"Tony, if you find them-"

"I'll be too focused on Whitney to care, Pepper. I won't _completely_ decimate Walsh, if that's what you're getting at."

"Just go find her."

* * *

Whitney was warm, very warm.

Tony probably let her fall asleep while on one of their dates, and he just let her sleep. Strange. He would have woken her up by now. But that didn't matter. She was with him, and not in that awful dream. It was simply horrid, it felt so terribly real. She felt a burning, stinging sensation in her feet, and her thigh. Even more strange. She also felt burning in her wrists and ankles for some reason. Now that was just plain peculiar. Whitney was snapped out of her analysis when Tony started to rub her shoulder, silently urging her awake. Reluctantly, she complied, still drowsy. Another oddity.

"What time is it?" Whitney groaned, fluttering her eyes, trying to get them open.

"Around noon."

That voice, it wasn't Tony's...

_Walsh! _The voice belonged to Walsh! Panic overcame her as she realized where her injuries came from, how she wasn't able to walk, and where she possibly was.

"No!" She shouted, forcing herself away from the man, purposefully ignoring the stinging in her feet.

"Take it easy," The man kept her from getting away.

Whitney shook with fear, staring into Walsh's emerald eyes, the very essence of her nightmares. She couldn't control it, she wanted to, she wanted to control herself. But those eyes...those horrible eyes.

"We're home, Whit, don't worry." Walsh said softly, holding on to her shoulders, "You'll be happy here, like Cassidy was before she died."

"I want to go home, I just want to go home." She cried, still violently shivering.

"You are home. My sweet Whitney, you'll be happy, I'll make you happy." The man wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, "You'll stay with me." he whispered calmly, stroking her hair.

"I don't want to be happy," Whitney struggled, she didn't want to be near him, not after he nearly electrocuted her to death! No, she had to control herself, her plan, she had a plan.

"You'll learn to love it here, you'll learn to be happy." Walsh continued to pet her hair, "You're just like her, so much like her. You'll stay with me forever, you can replace her, I want you to stay with me."

"N-no," she sobbed, Whitney just wanted to go home, she wanted to be with her friends, she wanted to be with Kyle. But she had to try this. Their code. She remembered her and Tony's cipher. If she could just find an Internet out-link, she could relay the message to his cell phone with the wires. She needed his trust, but the man had made it clear that she was never going to leave, that he wanted her to "stay" with him. She didn't want to stay with that maniac! She was going to make it work. Somehow.

"Shh, it's okay my love. Soon you will be able to walk again, and I can show you around." his voice was eerily...caring.

"Let me go,"

"Why? I want you as a child, as my own daughter. I want to take care of you. I won't mistreat you, I'll love you, Whit."

"I was happy, you took me away from that! You hurt me, you almost killed me! You'll murder me!"

"When did that happen? You're just upset, Whit, you had a nightmare that's all."

"No, it happened!" The man tried to kiss her forehead, but she wriggled away. Walsh sighed, "I'll be back when you're calmer," he said as he stood up, and strode out the door.

Whitney calmed herself, taking deep, long breaths. Her acting worked, she silently thanked all the practice she got from "misleading" her father...and for helping Pepper play pranks on her cousins. Good times. She wiped the forced tears from her eyes, and glanced around the room. Pepper would have hated such a frilly, girlie place such as this.

The bedroom looked like it was decorated for a little girl, possibly "Cassidy." It was rather uncanny how similar their names sounded. Suppressing a shudder, she continued with her observations. By now, she was getting tired of all the white, frill, and way too much lace. It definitely looked like a bedroom perfect for a little girl, and it strangely reminded Whitney of her own bedroom when she was younger. Creepy. The one thing that stood out to her was the fact that there were no windows, just one alabaster door on the opposite wall.

She decided to take a leap of faith, and try to walk, but her body felt like jelly. Even if she was only able to take a few steps at a time, it would be better than not being able to move her feet at all. She gingerly pushed the white comforter off of her legs, and swung them over the side of the bed. Taking a deep breath, she placed a foot delicately on the beige carpet. She steadily put more, and more pressure on her damaged foot until a sharp pain shot up her leg. She instantly placed a hand over her mouth to quiet her cry of pain, and quickly withdrew her foot from the floor.

She sucked in a breath, and delved deep under the comforter, effectively hiding herself from sight. Except for the lump that formed in the shape of her body. Curling into a ball, Whitney laid under the comforter, silently sobbing to herself. Her foot ached like crazy, and her vision was blurry from the drug Walsh had used on her earlier. What was that anyway? Some sort of tranquilizer, or anesthetic probably. She started to shiver despite the warmth she received from the thick comforter, everything was going so horribly wrong, the only thing going her way was her plan. Earn Walsh's trust, and maybe she could get out of here, but there was one problem. She. Couldn't. Walk. She just tried, and it burned like crazy! Her foot still ached from the sudden on-set of discomfort, and she bit her lip, trying to somehow quench the pain.

Whitney curled tighter, holding her legs near her chest, imagining herself someplace else. Tony holding her in his arms, where she was safe, perfectly safe. Where he would run his hands through her hair, whispering sweet nothings, and let her fall asleep for a while. When they were younger, around six, Mr. and Mrs. Stark would let her stay over for the night. She remembered how he would comfort her when she had a nightmare, or couldn't sleep. Most nights they would stay up, reading, talking, or deciding on new games to play when they woke up. In the morning, they always ended up in the same bed, curled up with one another. His arms holding her to him, protecting her, and she would nuzzle into his chest, cherishing his heartbeat.

What she wouldn't give to be back with him now, where she knew she was loved, and wanted. She needed to be strong, she needed to survive. For Tony, Rhodey, and Pepper. They were a family, all four of them. She began to tediously uncurl her body as she thought about her friends, but mostly, she thought about him. She dreamt that he would marry her one day, that they might have a family together, and have the happy ending she had always read about. After all, everyone deserved a happy ending. She replayed that one memory that would always be forever set in her mind,

The night he gave the locket.

_"Close your eyes." Tony stroked her cheek gently, smiling at her._

_"Alright," she smiled back, closing her eyes._

_She giggled a bit when he kissed her forehead, but other than that, she was succeeding in controlling her girlish tendencies._

_Whitney couldn't stand the anticipation, and she laughed, "Can I open them now?"_

_"Okay, now."_

_She opened her eyes to see a scintillating locket in Tony's hands with their initials carved delicately into the front. It was so wonderfully beautiful to her. She never asked for anything, she never wanted anything from him except, well, him. For Tony to do something like this was out of the ordinary, completely unexpected, but perfectly welcome._

_"I love it, th-thank you," she gave a small peck to his cheek._

_"You're," he cleared his throat, "You're welcome, I-uh, I know you can't wear it all the time, but um, I thought you would like something to...remind you of, you know, us." The last word was little more than a whisper._

_"It was a very sweet, and thoughtful thing to do."_

_"For a very sweet, and thoughtful girl."_

_He called her sweet, and thoughtful._ After that, those words held more meaning. They reminded her of that night, only a few weeks into their "forbidden" relationship, when Tony made that commitment. The locket, that simple heart on a chain, was a symbol. A symbol of his love for her, a symbol of breaking boundaries, maybe even of a change in both their lives. Most certainly her own. He was unquestionably her better half, conceivably even her soul mate. But she tried to deny her feelings for so long; the way her heart fluttered when he touched or looked at her, how her voice would rise in its pitch whenever he got too close, and especially the way she would lose interest in everything around her as soon as he entered a room; she would always embarrass herself whenever he caught her staring. She tried to convince herself that she was not attracted to him, but it was useless, because she was. She told herself that attraction was different from love, and that part was true, but she was definitely falling in love.

It started just over a year ago; she started experiencing these awkward moments with him where she would ramble on and on, and her breath would catch in her throat. An unusual sense of joy came about her during that year; she would dance around in her room at night, break into mindless humming at insane times, laugh at the craziest things, and have an abundantly cheerful attitude towards everyone and everything. Including her father. Of course, he was quite suspicious at first, especially when she ran up and hugged him right out of the blue when he arrived home one night, but she knew that he had grown accustomed to her random moments of affection over the years.

Also, for some strange reason unknown to her, she had an increased fondness towards children. She became so enchanted with them that she began to make regular visits to children's hospitals, and the like. They seemed to actually_ like_ her, perhaps even_ love_ her when she would visit, and she equally loved each, and every one of them as if they were hers. In fact, she thought more about having children of her own one day. Now that was definitely something that had changed. She observed that her sympathy, and other emotions grew during that time as well. Everything had added wonder. It was the most incredible transformations of her life.

Falling in love was truly the most splendid, and exhilarating set of beautiful emotions that anyone could have the privilege of experiencing. But despite the positive effects of this new-found love, Whitney wanted to push the emotions away, she never wanted to be in love, it just...happened. She wanted to believe that these emotions, these feelings, weren't real. That her mind so desperately wanted affection that she just made the entire thing up. She attempted to convince herself that what she was feeling was the result of hormones, that the emotions wouldn't last. But nearly two years after it started, Whitney still felt strongly about him.

Fortunately, she found out that he felt the same way, Tony had told her one night that he tried to drown out how he felt too. The same night he asked her out. That first time together was incredible, yet stiff. She kept forgetting that they were on a 'date', and would frequently try to hug, or move closer to him, at which points, he would delicately push her away. He was so sweet. He wanted to control himself, again, acting as her protector. Soundless tears crept down her cheeks when she thought about him, when she thought about how incredibly blissful she would get when she was around him. That was love. She didn't know it at the time, but it was love.

She had an unbelievable admiration for him, a beautiful affection that can only be described as love. A chemical reaction? Maybe. But it was real, and it was the only time she had ever felt like that towards anyone. The first time they kissed was on their five months anniversary, over a month ago. They had gotten close to a kiss before, but every-time they attempted to 'close the gap', something would interrupt them. That night they were practically fed up with all the waiting, and before they left for home, they locked eyes, and that feeling of complete adoration came over them, and they couldn't help but try for a kiss.

_His hand found its way to her's, interlacing their fingers as the other hand swept through her hair noiselessly. They were deliberately inching their way towards each other, taking their time, savoring the moment. She let her eyes close when she felt they were close enough, but she kept moving forward. Unexpectedly, their noses bumped into each other, startling them both out of their dreamy states. But it didn't stop them. Tony moved his hand to her cheek, silently urging her to tilt her head so they could try again. So, she did, and the hand slid to the back of her hair, entangling in the strands as their lips met for the first time._

It was one of the most perfect moments of her life.

Whitney was snapped out of her nostalgic thoughts when she felt the bed dip with added weight; her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes blew wide. Was that Walsh? Why was he sneaking up on her? Was he-

"Are you asleep, dear?" She could feel a hand on her waist, close to the wound on her thigh. She whimpered, betraying herself to the man. She tried to stifle it, she truly did, but she remembered how he dug his fingernails into the wound before. She remembered how much that_ hurt_. It was probably going to get infected if she didn't clean it soon.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I just came in to see how you were doing, you can go back to sleep." The hand left her side, then footsteps sounded through the room, growing softer and softer until the door creaked open and shut.

_Would her plan even work?_

* * *

Tony had arrived at the source of the phone call, weaved his way past the, um, security measures, and forced open the steel door, exerting more force then he calculated would be necessary.

"Alright, I'm in." He said, dread lining his voice as he observed the chamber.

"Be careful, T. This creep could be anywhere." Rhodey warned over the comm system.

"I'll be fine," Tony continued to look over the room, "It's kind of dark in here."

"Well, what did you expect? The guy is a sicko, he probably loves the dark! Pepper's slight nervousness shone through her voice, although Tonyknew she was trying to hide it.

The darkened, concrete room looked like a medieval dungeon. Assorted weapons, and horrifying devices lined the begrimed walls. Had the man used any of those..._things_ on Whitney? They appeared to be designed for pain. Various adaptions of knives, whips, and hooks hung from the walls, sobering the teen as he realized what that Walsh was truly capable of. What Whitney was going through. Would she ever recover from this? Would she still be his Whitney after this was over? Would she still...love him the way that she did before? Whatever the outcome, he would always love her. Even if she had to stay in a hospital room for the rest of her life, his feelings towards her would never change.

Looming shadows emitted a dark atmosphere as Tony steadily took one troubling step at a time, each movement forward bringing another disturbing sight into view. A dilapidated wooden door with iron bars was fixed at the end of the grimy, stone hallway. Seeing as he had no other choice, Tony reluctantly turned the knob, pushing the door open. This room...was far worse than anything he had previously seen. The sickening sight of dried blood on the already dirtied concrete walls made his stomach lurch with disgust. A single shackle attached to a long chain was in the center of the room, along with a small puddle of..._fresh blood._

"Oh, God." Tony breathed, "Whitney."

"What, did you find her?" Pepper questioned, excitement tinting her voice.

"This place is a horror movie!"

"Why did you have to tell me that? Now I've got these awful images in my head. Okay, I need a cookie...or something mainly chocolate."

"Why?" He heard Rhodey ask,

"Chocolate lifts your mood. Believe me, it's like a SAW movie in my head right now, ugh."

"Guys." Tony threatened, images playing in his head as well.

"Sorry," the two apologized,

"She's not here." Tony said, his eyes locked onto the pool of liquid.

_"H-h-hang up! D-d-do it, Tony, j-just ha-hang up! Y-you have t-to let m-me go!"_

He squeezed his eyes shut as the screams echoed in his mind. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as he struggled to regain his control over his sub-conscious. The call replayed, every cry, taunt, and yell resurfaced to haunt his ears once again. He clenched an armored hand as memories of their times together flashed through his head, a bitter reminder that she was gone.

The rooms were eerily empty except for the horrifying sight of violent weapons on the walls. If she died because of all this, he would never forgive himself. He had a chance that he didn't get with his parents, he had a chance to save her, to rescue her. With his parents, with both scenarios, he couldn't do anything. He had that chance now, and he had to use it, he had to save her. There was no possible way that he could survive losing another person he cared about. Another person he loved. He barely scraped through his father's death. If Whitney died as well, he wouldn't be able to cope. It would take years just to return to normal, just to return to the real world.

This was all so unreal, implausible, it shouldn't have happened. None of this should be real, none of it. He missed her, he needed her. He didn't want to admit it, but he did, he needed her comforting arms around his shoulders, telling him that he could do anything if he put his mind to it. She always told him that. Whenever he would doubt himself, she was there, putting the confidence back in him. Even if she didn't know why he would run off in the middle of their dates, she would always be there for him. Except now. She wasn't there to lecture him, put him back on the right track. She slapped him once, because he doubted himself. She told him to never...end up like her, thinking that he was worthless. She even cried. He swore to never forget that moment, when she just embraced him, mumbling over and over, "Don't end up like me."

In that moment, reliving their memories together, he instantly remembered all of her idiosyncrasies. The way she laughed, the light-hearted giggle or the loud chuckle, he loved it when she did either, and to his delight, he was almost always the one to draw out both. The way she would put up her hair, and he would playfully snatch the hair band from her, and how she would get angry, playful, then loving. They always ended up entangled in each other's arms, if they were alone. The way she would bite the tip of her pencil, engrossed in deep thought while writing. He thought it was adorable, and he spared no time in telling her so, then she would swat his arm, that sparkle in her eyes. The way she fall asleep in his arms some nights, curling up in his lap, her lips slightly parted, arms around his neck. The way she spun around, dancing, and singing, to different music.

She told him that she picked her favorite song of all time because it reminded her of them. It melted his heart in the most wonderful way possible. Whenever that song would play, no matter where they were, she would get that look in her eyes. If they were alone, she would take his hand and just start dancing. He usually protested, but when she buried her head in the crook of his neck, he gave in, and just slow-danced with her. If there was a way to describe those moments between them, he would do it in a heart-beat. Sometimes, when he would pass a jewelry store, and he would glance at the engagement rings, he would imagine what it would be like to marry her. To have her forever. Would he even make a good husband? Were they even in love in the first place?

He would doubt, and sulk, but when he just looked at her, he was sure he was in love. If only he had his father's guidance, especially now. He needed a person to fall back on, wise counsel, and someone who understood. That was Whitney. She used to be that person, although she could never replace his father, she was a close second. She always understood, she didn't always agree, but she understood. She told him once that it was her job, that it was what couples did for each other, that she would always listen to whatever he had to say. Tony couldn't imagine being with anyone else. Was that what he was supposed to feel? Did he really, truly, actually love her? Or was he still too immature to understand the meaning of the emotion?

He asked himself those questions every day, he just wanted to be sure of himself, to be sure that he never broke her heart. It got broken too many times, and he didn't want to be another crack in the glass, another crack in her heart. She deserved to be loved. Even if he wasn't the one to do it. It had only been a few hours since they had been informed of Whitney's disappearance, and he was already breaking down. Like Pepper said, he was a mess. He needed to get himself together, and find her, before that Walsh could hurt her...more than he already had.

"Hey, you there? I said we can try to locate her through the tracker in the locket next." He heard Rhodey over the comm.

"Y-yeah, I just-yeah, we can do that." He stuttered, gaining control over his mind again.

"Hey, Rhodey, your mom just called. She says the FBI wants to talk to us...including my dad." He heard Pepper.

"Oh, snap, okay. Get back here now! We can't cover for you forever!"

"Okay, okay, I'm hurrying!" Tony started back through the maze of corridors, and dead-end hallways, thinking all the while...

_Will I ever see her again?_

* * *

**A/N It is true that when you fall in love, your brain releases massive amounts of a chemical called "endorphins". It's the happiness chemical. Basically, it's the fluttery, giddy feeling you get when you're around that certain person. Even when you're not around that person, it still affects you. I did a LOT of research on this because I've never been in love, so I have no idea how it works. But, from what I've read, it sounds amazing. Although, they say it takes more than two years to recover from losing that love, and it takes about one to three years for love to fully develop. A little tidbit of trivia knowledge from your humble, researching writer. ;)**

**Oh, and I love Rhodey, and Pepper as comic relief, I really do.**

**Did you know that this chapter is over 5,000 words?**

**-Virtual hugs!**


	10. Chapter 10: Discovery

**A/N Ten chapters, I feel like celebrating! If...anyone is...reading this still after those horrible typos last chapter. *sniffles* Oh well, they say that you should write because you love it, and that's what I'll do, I'll continue to write this story because I love creating evil, Hitchcockian villains.**

**If anyone doesn't know who Alfred Hitchcock is, look him up, he's my inspiration. When I become an author one day, I hope that I can be as good as he was with his movies. In fact, the flashback contains some of the dialogue from his TV series as my late tribute to him for Halloween. I couldn't resist.**

**This chapter explores several point of views, confirming an omniscient writing style. I really need to work on writing emotionally from different point of views. So, this chapter is looooonnnnnggggg since I wrote some of it in math class(shh, this'll be our secret!) **

* * *

_He had her in his arms, holding her close to him, her head resting against his shoulder as he caressed her hand tenderly, planting kisses on her temple. She had almost fallen asleep again-she was so relaxed, but fortunately for him, she was still awake. They had been talking for hours, sitting like that. They never got tired of being close to each other, and if anything, they couldn't get enough. The only disturbances were the rustling of the leaves, the park trees swaying gently in the night breeze. They were alone, peacefully alone, no distractions; nothing to tear them away from each other. Unlike when they saw each other on the street, or at school, they could display their affection to each other. They didn't have to hide it. They didn't have to avert their eyes when the other walked past, just in case they stared for too long, or smiled too much. That was the painful part, not being able to even smile..._

_"Sometimes, when I'm not with you I close my eyes, and I can't remember what you look like. I wonder why, I mean, I should have you memorized by now." Tony wrapped his arms around her stomach as he talked with her, _

_"That's...well, I don't know." Whitney said as she sat in his lap, leaning back against his chest._

_"I think it's because I'm afraid that...afraid that I'm going to lose you," he confessed, "I couldn't live if I did."_

_"That's never going to happen, darling," she comforted, concern written on her face as she turned sideways to wrap her arms around his neck and touch her forehead to his, "you could never lose me." _

_"Why shoudn't I, what did I do to earn you as a reward?" Tony spoke softly, tightening his hold on her,_

_"Maybe something horrible. I'm probably a punishment, not a reward." _

_"Then you're some punishment." _

* * *

He couldn't stop thinking about her, even as they kept asking him questions about the phone call, he couldn't keep his mind off her.

"No, I did offer it, but he...he refused." Tony put his head in his hands, covering his eyes.

"I'm sorry we have to keep asking you questions, I know all of you are hurting, but this is important. Every possible clue is important." Agent Sherman spoke to the teen on the couch, Roberta standing behind him, with comforting hands on his shoulders after noticing the distress he was in.

"Can you tell me again what the number was?"

"Umm," of course he knew exactly what it was, area code and all, "838-481-549." he said without any difficulty. How did they expect him to forget something like that? Something so...so horrible.

"Okay, now can you remember what this man said in the phone call?"

He squeezed his eyes shut even though they were already closed, he lifted his head, opened his eyes, and stared straight into Agent Sherman's deep brown orbs, "I can do better than that. I remember every _detail, _I remember every word. It just depends on what you want to know."

"Any little thing could be a big help, you never know, maybe a noise in the background, maybe an echo could be a clue. In fact, the area code you gave tells us his location when he made the call, and we have a team tracing his past movements now."

"There was a small water drip, I know that." _but I didn't see any water when I was there, _" there was an echo...because...she, she screamed." his head went back in his hands.

Roberta squeezed his shoulders, "I think we had better save this for another day."

"No, I need to tell you all something," he said, lifting his head again.

He knew the man from somewhere, personally, like he had seen him before. He recognized the name, he knew the man, but from _where?_

Rhodey was sitting beside him, silently comforting him, he needed that. Over on the other side of the room, Pepper's father, Virgil, was talking to her, soothing her,

She looked so sad.

Tony remembered when her and Whitney...didn't get along, but now, the two were the best of friends, sisters even, due to Whitney's sudden change of heart. He was honest; Whitney really was spoiled, spiteful, cruel, and thoughtless, but not anymore. That's when he realized that he loved her, when her true personality came to light for everyone to see. He always knew that she wasn't truly like that, she was never like that with him, just with the people _around_ him.

He knew she was jealous.

She was jealous of them, she thought that she was going to lose him because the people around him were slowly taking him away from her. Just like what happened with her father. When he got too "busy" for her, to take care of her, to cherish her like the angel she was. Did he even feel remorse for what he had done now that she was...temporarily gone? No, probably not. Stane never felt anything, for anyone, especially Whitney. And that mother of her's, leaving like that and then expecting everything to be perfectly normal after almost nine straight years of no contact? He may have lost _his_ family, but _she_ never had a family to begin with. For that, in a rather twisted way, he could be thankful. He could be thankful that he was in her life to make everything at least semi-okay for her.

He missed her...he missed her so much.

Then he heard Roberta finally speak, "Are you sure?"

"I know certain things about that guy, I just do. It's hard to explain, but it's there, I just don't _know." _he answered shakily, he was still part-way in his thoughts. His never-ending thoughts about her.

He _did_ know who he was from Pepper and Rhodey's snooping, but he remembered who exactly the man _was_. He knew him, he remembered him from something somewhere, but what?

"Explain."

"I feel like...I feel like I know him from somewhere."

"Do you want to talk about it? Anything at all might help Whitney."

At the sound of her name he unconsciously stiffened up, but he replied, "I'll do it."

* * *

Whitney needed a shower. Badly.

The blood on her thigh dried, making her feel uneasy, the wound there needed to be cleaned as well, she couldn't leave it like that, with the dirt and grime still embedded in the cut. That was the last thing she needed, an infection...or Walsh to come back through that door. Her head throbbed from whatever it was that sicko gave her, but at least her vision was back to normal, now everything didn't look like a big, blurry, mushed up blob. Her feet ached, and she needed to soothe, and definitely clean them with some kind of anti-bacterial substance, and water. Water. Speaking of it, she could _really_ use some, her throat was dry, and sore from all the...yelling...earlier, but she wasn't about to ask_ him_ for _anything._

She was going to find some as soon as he went to sleep. If the man slept. Oh, what was she thinking, she didn't even know where she _was_, let alone what time it could be! She knew that it was unusually cold, basement? No, the ground temperature stays constant, that didn't fit the time of year, it would be warm. It was the beginning of fall, it would still be at least semi-warm in Manhattan, unless, she wasn't there anymore. Maybe she was somewhere where it was cold, like Washington, or was she even still in the U.S? She had to focus, she needed to make her plan work, every building had some sort of outside connection, she just needed to find it, unless the man had destroyed that already.

Feeling brave, she lifted her head out of the covers carefully, avoiding any unnecessary movements, and quickly scanned across the room. Seeing no one there, she climbed out of the comforter, and laid flat on the bed, her head resting on the pillows. She took a deep breath, lifted her leg and twisted it so that she could see the bottom of her foot. It was a dimmed red, sore and swollen. Figures. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she gingerly touched the enlarged skin, her mind zooming with things Valarie taught her to reduce swelling. Valarie. She missed her, and perhaps, Valarie missed her too. The housekeeper was possibly the only one in her household who would miss her, after all, she was a nuisance to her parents. When she thought about her home, she felt like crying, even sobbing, but she couldn't let her emotions take control of her now. She placed her leg back on the bed, being careful of the damaged foot. Squeezing her eyes shut, she said a silent prayer, one that she had prayed quite often during the last hours...or days.

She felt so pathetic, so helpless, her father wouldn't appreciate her acting like this. He would tell her to get her act together, to stop whining...to go away. Why couldn't he love her, was something wrong with her? Did he want a son instead, was that it, someone to carry on the family name? Maybe she was just annoying to him, but she tried so hard to be less.._.that_ way. And her mother; she seemed to actually love her, so why did she leave? She would ask her when she got back, and she would reconcile with her father as well. They were her _parents, _she shouldn't feel like that towards them. And she would fix it. She would continue to fix her life one piece at a time, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, she would replace every missing piece.

She rolled onto her stomach, her head making her instantly regret the sudden movement, and buried her face into the pillow. A click of a lock sounded through the room; Whitney perked, raising her head to look at the door, her heart picking up speed.

"Who's there?" she called, a demanding tone to her voice.

"It's just me, my love." The man responded, the door cracking to show his face.

She took a deep breath, calming her raging anger, "What do you want?" she asked in a light voice.

"You're awfully quiet in there, dear. I know you're still upset over what those people did to you, but at least make a little noise. The house is so quiet without your voice."

She decided that she would play along, who knows, maybe she might learn something. All she had to do was create a story, universal, to match her injuries, and the man's choice of words.

And she knew exactly what she would do...

She faked tears, "I don't ever want to leave this room again. They were horrible, just horrible. Why did they do that to me, why?" she expertly sobbed, burying her face back into the pillow.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I didn't know that they hurt you that badly," a hand pressed down on her back, and she fought herself to not shiver as it made small circles, "I took you out of that school, they won't hurt you again, Cassie."

Cassie, who was Cassie? Cassidy, maybe? Well, that was creepy, the man thought she was Cassidy, or whoever. But there was a good side to this, at least the man wouldn't hurt her again, with that...thing.

Continuing with the acting she had learned over the years, she looked up at Walsh with doe eyes, "You didn't have to do that, I could've taken them."

That made the man laugh.

Oh, how she _hated_ it.

"Yes, you could've," he sat on the edge of the bed, "Why don't you take a nice, warm shower, huh? It always made you feel better."

"But I can't walk."

"That's right! I forgot about that, I'll see what we have in kitchen for that. I know we have that...what was it that the doctor gave us when we went? That...that cream, I'll go get it." he leaned in to kiss her forehead, but this time, she didn't budge. She just smiled and closed her eyes as his lips pressed against her skin.

But on the inside...

_She wanted to slam a knife into his back._

* * *

Tony sat in the middle of the couch, relaying all the memory he had of that Walsh creep, and he had a lot of it. But there was one memory that was always illusive, a memory of a cold night, an ominous night. A tragic night.

"I remember...eyes...staring at us, me and Whitney, we were so scared. They were green, a deep, menacing green, and red. I remember red, a lot of it, all over us, but we didn't care," Tony's face contorted with concentration, "we were upset, very, very upset over something. Then Dad came home, there were noises, and we were suddenly swept up, then...nothing."

"Hmm, Dalton Walsh, and his various aliases have green eyes." Agent Sherman gave a glance towards Roberta, "now tell me, is it possible that you might have, say, blocked this memory?"

"I think so. Every time I try to retrieve it, it's gone, but I know it's there."

"Then I think you've seen Dalton Walsh, but we _have_ observed that Walsh _may_ have multiple personality disorder, so which personality you may have seen is uncertain."

"Do you mean _Whitney_ is with someone like that? What if he's...what if he's...what if he's _doing_ something to her?"

I don't know,"

He was lying, Tony knew he was lying, he was withholding from him.

"Don't sugarcoat it!" he shouted, raising up from the couch slightly, startling Rhodey and Roberta, and even Virgil and Pepper from across the room.

"Yes, it's a possibility." Sherman nodded,

"I thought so," he slumped back down, "promise me you'll find her." he stared straight into the agent's eyes.

"Honestly, we've never recovered one of his victims before, and there's a pretty high chance that even if we did find her, and bring her home, that she'll be...a shell of what she was."

"I don't care, just bring her home."

* * *

Whitney sat cross-legged on the bed, reading a novel she found in the dresser in her room. She could walk now, but only slightly. The medicine that the man gave her started working a few hours ago, it stung, but it helped. Reading seemed to keep her mind off of everything around her, the madness and despair of being kept with a creep who could explode at any given moment. She focused on the book, the new world she could explore through it, instead of the pain in her thigh. Even that still hurt.

She concentrated even harder on the words leaping off the page; the heroine was running away from the ancient myth of a monster in the forest, carrying a basket full of mushrooms from the woods. She dodged and weaved through the maze of trees as the monster growled from behind her. What was going to happen? Reaching the castle gates, the heroine shook the metal bars, the monster out of sight. But out of nowhere, it creeped up behind her and reached forward, and the heroine-

"Whitney!" A voice boomed from outside the door,

Did he just use her real name?

Her heart leaped into her throat at the sound of the harsh voice. With a sigh, she closed her book, placed it on the nightstand beside her, and prepared herself for her next "act."

"Yes?" she called out sweetly, pushing aside the fact that something might be wrong.

The door flew open to reveal a very angry, and a very scary, Dalton Walsh.

"Do you have anything to do with the alert I just received?" he stormed inside the room, ending up at the edge of the bed,

"I don't even know what you're talking about," she shook her head, widening her eyes, a look of innocence across her face.

But Walsh was different.

His hands shot out to grasp around her throat, lightly squeezing, "They're looking for you." he said, tightening his grip,

She sputtered, and clawed at the hands as he pushed her down against the mattress, leaning over her, "What are you doing?" she managed to say, through Walsh's grip.

"You're going to tell them to stop, right now." he demanded, his grip on her airway lessening.

That...was_ the_...last...straw.

Her eyes darkening with anger, she thrust her knee to connect into his sternum, breaking the man's grip on her throat. Taking the opportunity, she slammed her fist into his stomach, sending him reeling.

"You're a monster!" she screamed, hatred pulsating through her veins, "you killed her!"

She avoided the man's grasp cleverly, and using every tip and trick she had learned, pushed herself off the bed, and landed on the floor.

Her feet hurt, but she ignored it. The man deserved everything coming to him, and she was going to give it. Now.

"You're going to regret that," The man seethed, lunging at her.

Which was exactly what she wanted.

She dived towards the door, out-of-the-way, sending the man straight into the dresser.

"Regret_ that!_" she yelled, already running out of the room.

She raced out of the open door, and slammed it, not giving Walsh any more time to recuperate. She locked the door, and she instantly heard Walsh's curses as he tried opening it.

"Open this door, you brat!" he shouted at her through the door,

"Not a chance, you psycho!" she shouted back, not being able to resist an opportunity to curse the man.

She sped through the corridor, which was remarkably well-kept considering how messed up in the head Walsh was, and arrived at a basement door. Or she thought it was a basement door, it looked like one, and she wasn't in the mood to debate herself. She fumbled to open it, the adrenaline picking up whenever she heard Walsh bang on the door down the hall. Finally, the door gave way, opening to...a basement. The creepiest basement in the world. She closed the door, staring in awe over what she saw; test tubes and strange liquids, random devices and weird inventions, and a control panel.

What she had been looking for.

Her heart fluttered with hope as she reached the metal casing, nearly breaking the object trying to get it open, she fingered the wires, the cipher playing in her mind.

_"Okay,"_ she told herself, _"You've only got one shot at this Whitney, don't screw it up like you do everything else." _

She twisted the casing off the cords, revealing the copper lines, and she was about to connect with the right code, when the basement door flew open...

* * *

Tony paced around the room while Roberta, Virgil, and Sherman kept talking amongst themselves.

"And he's doing it again," Rhodey mumbled,

"He's just stressed," Pepper defended as she plopped down beside him,

"I know that. It's only natural that if your girlfriend was kidnapped by a psychotic axe-murderer that you'd be feeling a bit down." he couldn't disguise the whimsical manner in his voice.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" Pepper raised an eyebrow, catching on to the tone.

"No."

"Good, 'cause it wasn't."

"Okay, okay,"

Tony paced over to them, head down, "I _know _that guy, I just, can't remember."

"You will, sooner or later." Pepper tried to smile, the result being a slight up-turning of her mouth.

"Yeah, it just takes time." Rhodey encouraged,

"Thanks, guys. And I'm sorry that I'm not 'all there' right now."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"We know it's hard, but it's something we'll get through together." Pepper assured,

"As usual." Tony smiled at his supportive friends before going back to pacing and thinking.

Pepper noticed her dad motioning her over to him, "Gotta go, the parent calls."

"It's not like your going anywhere, except, right down the hall."

"Let me tell you something, your attempts at humor, they ain't funny."

"Ouch."

"Well, it wasn't meant to be a compliment."

* * *

Whitney stumbled after a harsh blow to her ribs, taking her down to the floor, huffing with exertion.

"I should've gotten the camera out for this, so your friends can see me beat you up too." The man said through gritted teeth, "but one thing they _will_ see is you, and you _will_ tell them to stop messing around my stuff looking for you, or else I might just have to punish you some more. Remember last time? Only much, much worse."

"You really like to monologue, don't you?" she panted, getting back on her feet shakily, whimpering from the force on her pressure points.

"They still hurt, hmm, I'm rather pleased with myself." Walsh brought a fist around in a right hook,

Whitney returning with a block, almost not in time, "You. Are. A freak." she emphasized her word with weak round-house kicks to his stomach,

"Thank you," Walsh grabbed her leg,

"Oh, snap." she cursed before he yanked harshly, sending her down on her back.

He held her leg straight up in the air while she flailed on the ground, "I've been waiting for you to make that mistake,"

"Yeah, well now none of us win."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Walsh twisted her leg over, ultimately causing Whitney to move onto her stomach, "Isn't this better?"

"You freaky, psychopathic, creeper, Frankenstein-like, sadistic, over-grown, idiot," she mumbled in hatred as she tried to pull her leg back down.

"You say the most horrible things." Walsh slammed her leg down hard on the cement, making Whitney cry out in pain from the force of the concrete on her leg. The man knelt on her back, pressing harder against her spine every time she flinched, "now are you going to be a good girl and go in front of the camera like I asked, or are you going to be stubborn? I'd hate to have to break that leg of yours."

"I think you did," Whitney groaned under the pressure of Walsh's knee on her spine, forcing the air out of her lungs.

"Or would you like to revisit Sparky again?" he suggested, pushing down even further.

_Sparky._

The wound in her thigh had already reopened due to the fighting, her feet were sore and again leaking blood, she couldn't take that thing again.

"I'll, I'll do it."

At least she would get a chance to say goodbye, and a chance to reveal something.

Something important.

* * *

Tony approached the two adults by the dining table, "Would it be alright if I went to my room, I...I want to be alone for a little while."

Roberta's eyes shone with sympathy, "It's fine, I understand."

"Thanks, Roberta."

He gave a brief glance toward Agent Sherman, and headed off towards his room, passing Rhodey on the couch, and Pepper talking with Virgil. He didn't notice his friends stares as he walked into his room, and shut the door.

He all but collasped on his bed; sitting on the matress, he tried to think about that memory, but all he came up with was Whitney. It was hopeless, he couldn't concentrate on anything but her. The sparkling eyes, the feel of her hands, it just didn't stop.

He didn't hear the door open, or Pepper slowly stepping into the room.

But he did hear her speak,

"Tony, I-uh, my dad found this under the cushions on our couch today, it's Whitney's, I thought you might want to have it." Pepper handed him the hardback book, and he took it from her slowly.

"King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table," he smiled as he read the cover, "it was her favorite when we were little."

He pictured that tiny little girl playing hide and seek with him in their spot. It was their favorite place, their special hideaway, hidden from everyone, save a few brave birds. They found that place a long time ago, on accident. To remember where it was, they dug notches in the bark of the trees in a code only they knew. Their secret cipher. They made it up while they were playing spies, and strangely, Whitney was pretty good at that game.

"Go on."

"We would pretend to be knights, fighting evil goblins and dragons," he suddenly grew solumn, "and sometimes, she would pretend to be a beautiful princess, waiting to be rescued by a knight in shining armor. I was supposed to protect her, like a good knight, but I didn't."

"Hey, we talked about this, don't beat yourself up. They'll find her, in fact, you're helping! Don't forget how you tracked the location of the phone call!" Pepper tried to cheer him up,

"Yeah, but what did I accomplish, nothing." Tony kept his hands on the book,

"They'll turn up something, I'm sure of it."

Rhodey came into the room with a package in his hands, "This...just arrived a few minutes ago, it's addressed to you, so, Mom told me to go ahead and give it to you."

Tony took the manila folder from Rhodey and opened it, a simple disk as it's contents.

"I don't think we should play that." Pepper warned, "my dad gets these kinds of things all the time at work, like ransom stuff."

"Do you think it's about Whitney?" Rhodey asked,

Pepper nodded, "Who else could it be about?"

Tony held the disk in his hands like it was a precious jewel, "Do you think she's alright?"

"I don't know, but the guy's a freak, who knows what might happen." Rhodey reminded,

"We should hand it over to the police, they're still here," Pepper suggested,

But he didn't listen.

He stared at the glistening disk as he walked over to his computer, turned it on, and placed it in the drive, he instantly regretted it.

As soon as he pushed the disk into the computer drive, Whitney appeared on the screen; frightened, upset, and with tears in her eyes.

Tony sucked in a deep breath at the familar sight of the girl, "She's alive."

Pepper and Rhodey crowded around him as she started to speak,

_"I-I...the man knows about it, what you did, with his other,"_ she grimaced, _"with the other place."_

Pepper covered her mouth with her hands, Rhodey gripped the back of the chair, and Tony stared. He just stared.

"He knew. Rhodey, you were right, he knew," he muttered, watching Whitney intently.

_"The man, Dal-"_ Whitney was interrupted by something hitting her back, causing her lean forward, and gasp in pain.

"Whitney," Tony said again, his eyes tearing up.

She leaned back up, straightening out,_"I...I want you to stop...to stop everything," _her fingers were tapping discreetly on the concrete in a pattern, a familiar pattern...

A ciphered pattern!

"She's telling us something!" Tony exclaimed, "she's...she's saying 'I' "

"'I' what?" Rhodey's grip on the chair lessened,

"She's saying I love you," he swallowed,

"She's saying goodbye," Rhodey murmured,

Whitney continued speaking, _"the man won't hurt me if you do,"_ her eyes held a certain fire,

"Oh no," Pepper breathed, closing her eyes, "she's going to try something."

_"Tony, the man killed Maria, he killed her, tell the police that he-" _

Then she slumped forward again, falling on the cement hard as whatever it was kept slamming down on her back. Relentlessly. Over, and over, and she bit her lip before giving in and screaming in pain as what he had now recognized as a leather whip scraped across her back in neat diagonal lines.

Then it stopped.

She gasped for air in front of the camera, and Tony clutched at the arms of the chair as the man came into view,

_"I guess I still can't trust her,"_ he kicked her abused back hard, making her scream again, _"what she meant to say is that I know about someone's little escapade into my domain,"_ he fisted her hair, and yanked her to her knees, _"I won't tolerate it,"_

Whitney continued to fight him even though her back was dripping with vital liquid, _"They won't let you get away with this!"_

_"Do we really need to repeat what happened earlier? I haven't messed with that adorable little face of yours, _yet,_ but I can."_

_"Freak!"_

_"Name-calling,"_ The man slammed the side of her face down on the cement, a sickening thud resounding from the speakers, making the three teens wince.

As he brought her head back up, she groaned, blood now leaking from her nose.

_"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I'll leave her alone as long as nobody touches my home. In fact, I'll even let Dawson take care of her, he's so fond of her after all, he thinks she looks just like Cassidy."_

_"Dawson?" _

_"My brother," _he leaned in towards her ear, saying something the trio couldn't hear, but made Whitney wince. He placed a hand over her mouth and continued speaking, _"Believe me, I would love to play with her, but Dawson is always so persistent. To be honest, she does look like our dear departed sister, doesn't she? _

He let his other hand run up her arm, and she squeezed her eyes shut, _"And just for that, I'll leave her alone. But if I find out that anyone tried to find her, to take her away from us, I'll make sure no one gets her back."_

Then it blanked, turned to completely black. It was over.

Tears fell down Tony's cheeks as he broke his silence, "I failed, I triggered an alarm, I failed her."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "We should give this to my dad," Pepper said,

"Yeah, we...we should." Tony took out the disc, being careful to not smudge it,

Then he abruptly remembered something; he still had her phone, and he could still track the locket, maybe he should tell the police about it. But could he _trust_ anyone with that information? He didn't want to hurt Whitney like what happened when he tried to find her last time, he didn't want the man to hurt her.

Dalton Walsh, she said that he...

Tony stopped in the middle of the doorway, "He killed my mother," he said with a tone of disbelief,

Rhodey and Pepper spun around to face him,

"What are you talking about?" Rhodey asked.

They forgot about it, they forgot about what she said, they were so caught up with the discovery that they forgot. He forgot too, but he didn't know what to think, because Tony remembered that night. It was the most terrifying moment of his life, when the man tried to grab them. Those eyes were intense, then they changed, turned soft. And the man ran away, out the front door, leaving him and Whitney shaking on the floor, huddled together near the already dead body of his mother.

He was confused, so confused. He was coming up to a fork in the road, and he didn't know which path to take. Should he divulge priceless information, since he was obviously incapable of keeping a clear head, or should he try again, possibly risking Whitney's life? It was all too hard!

But he had to come up with an answer soon, or he might never see Whitney again.

* * *

Obadiah Stane hadn't left his home ever since he got the news, he never left the study. Not once. Not even to go to his office. He couldn't be anywhere she had been. He couldn't venture near her bedroom, the library, even the living room without thinking about her.

His daughter.

He rubbed his face with his hands, and went back to work. Statements, bills, checks, and releases, there were so many of them, he needed to finish the mounting paperwork, but a conversation always plagued him, one he had with his daughter, the night before _that_ day. He yelled at her, called her things, things he shouldn't have said. He regretted those things. For the first time in his life, he felt guilty, horribly guilty. When he saw her at the hospital that day, how she looked, he would never forget that. Would she _die_ thinking he despised her? There was a time when he loved her, held her in his arms and played with her. She was imaginative, so imaginative. She found adventure in the dark depths of the basement, pretending she had to escape a prison. She even discovered a palace in the master bedroom, under the sheets. He still remembered the stuttering voice that rambled on about all of her adventures.

She would run up to him, saying random things pertaining to the world she had created for that specific play-time, and strangely, he missed that. He longed for those days when she would attempt to climb the couch as if it were Mount Everest, muttering about how cold it was. How she would dance around the kitchen floor, pretending to be at a grand ball as a princess. He never danced with her, but he wanted to. Secretly, he wanted to. One time, much too long ago, she skipped into the study while he was working, and asked if he knew where her "Mousey" went,

He scolded her.

She cried, the poor thing, she cried. He must have been too harsh, he was always too harsh with her. He kept forgetting how fragile she was. She was fragile, so fragile, so delicate and fragile. She was a precious collection of beautiful china, brand new, untainted and pure. Chaste, perfectly chaste. He wanted, needed, her to stay that way, and in the process...he scratched the china. He tainted the perfect pieces, one by one, he scratched them all.

He kept a picture of her in his desk, he had forgotten about it. With trembling, nervous hands, he took it out and stared at the framed photo. His daughter. The shy, pretty thing she was; smiling with that precious tilt of her head, hands fixed behind her back in a subtle gesture of inculpability, ice blue eyes staring at the camera with an innocent hope, a sparkle, blonde locks cascading down to her shoulders. A silent tear escaped his ashen eyes as he held that photo, an irreplaceable memento of authenticity, a vestige of his only child.

She had her sixteenth birthday only a few months ago, and he wasn't there, he wasn't there to celebrate his daughter's graduation into a young lady. A flawless, blameless, immaculate young lady. He knew that she didn't have many friends, he knew that she didn't plan a party for that day. But her friends did, he knew that, he knew more about her than he let on. Those kids she always brought home: that Pepper, the agent's daughter, the chatty one; Rhodey, the seemingly normal one with the military father. And then there was Tony, she brought him home as well. Much to his dismay. The way that Whitney looked at him, and the way he looked back, it was something...odd, strange, unfamiliar, he didn't dwell on it though.

She changed, later that year. She came home one Sunday night with a certain air about her, an adjustment, she even walked differently. After that, she took interest in children, different things she never paid any mind to before. Her looks altered as well, that was noticeable; the makeup was gone, the clothes were replaced, music changed, and habits reversed. Not that he minded, no, he didn't mind it at all. Especially when she started to wear those sundresses again, the ones that made her appear to be a child, the little girl who needed someone to hold her hand to cross the street. The one who held on to her Mousey during a thunderstorm, who would try to climb in his lap to see what he was doing, the one who idolized him. He let that little girl down.

"Obadiah?" A female voice called, "are you in here?"

Désirée, just what he needed, more interruptions and reminders.

"If you need to talk, make it quick." he said, but he kept his eyes glued to the desk.

"I will not be spoken to in that manner!" Désirée stormed inside the room, her eyes fuming.

The usual.

"Which manner of speaking do you prefer?"

"Our _daughter_ is missing," the slightly accented voice calmed down, "at least show a tiny bit of sympathy. We could be going to a funeral any day now."

"Our daughter is not going to be in a funeral! Look, unlike you, I actually have something to do. If you don't mind?" he gestured towards the door,

"I should have just taken her, and left, this wouldn't have happened under my watch!" Désirée stared down at him,

Whitney inherited those eyes.

"What watch, where have you been in the last nine years, back in France? Where have you been in her life, Rae? Nowhere!"

She slammed her hands down on the desk as he shot up from his chair, "At least I didn't let her get kidnapped and possibly killed!"

"Would she have been better off with you?"

"Yes, she would have!"

"Then why didn't you take her?"

At this, he was met with silence.

"You can't answer that, can you?" he sat back down, adjusting his tie, "do you have anything else to say?"

"Fine, I'll leave for now, but I'll drop in sooner or later. Whitney is _mine_ as well as your's, and when she gets back, I'm making sure that she sees _my_ side of the family, in France."

"Have you ever thought about Whitney not being able to travel?"

"She's a girl, moreover, she's _your_ girl. She would want to make you proud."

There was not another word as Désirée Stane waltzed out of the room, and slammed the door. Typical, she was always one for dramatics.

Whitney inherited that from her too.

It was funny how she didn't inherit that accent of her's as well, Désirée had such a strong one when he met her. Back then, she hardly knew how to speak English, she was just an exchange student. They met in college, a stereotypical thing, they just so happened to bump into each other after a class. They fell in "love", got married, and had a daughter. A few years later, things didn't turn out as they planned; the arguments, fights, everything started.

Whitney saw one of their fights once, while they were yelling at each other, she wandered into their bedroom with her Mousey, holding it close to her chest as she told them to stop. They did. He would do anything for his baby girl, but he never told her that. He couldn't remember the last time he told her he loved her, when he hugged her, or even spoke words not of criticism to her. With a sigh, he returned to the papers, keeping his thoughts off of his daughter.

He could never think about his daughter.

* * *

Dawson Walsh tried to keep his brother under control, but sometimes Dalton could be...forceful.

His brother hurt Cassidy again, he broke her nose, but he fixed it. He would always take care of his sister, for forever and ever and ever. She started shivering, she was cold, he would go get a blanket for her. A nice, warm, fuzzy blanket for his sister. Dalton didn't like that, no, Dalton didn't like that at all. He wanted to use her, play with her like a toy. Cassidy wasn't a toy, she was never a toy, she was their sister. He told him that, but Dalton wouldn't listen, Dalton never listened because he was a bully. Dawson noticed the blood trickling down her back, her shirt was torn in diagonal lines where the red stuff was seeping out, mixing with her blouse so you couldn't see it anymore. Dawson didn't like it when his brother hurt her.

She was hiding in the corner of the basement, all curled up and shivering. Dalton scared her, the big meanie, he scared her. He scared his baby sister. He would have a talk with him once he was through tending to her. He picked up the washcloth he used to clean her nose, and padded over to her. With a tender touch, he placed a hand on her shoulder, careful of her wounds. She tensed, Dalton must have scared her pretty bad. He squeezed out some of the water from the cloth, and started to dab at the numerous lacerations along her back. They were too deep. He would have to fix them with the stitches; he didn't like doing that, it hurt, but Dalton had some chemicals lying around that he could use to make it better for her. Cassidy whimpered, and he stopped everything. Did he hurt her? She lifted her head to look at him with those big, blue eyes. She always had pretty eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile, but she didn't smile back, so he just continued with cleaning her cuts.

Once he finished, the cloth was saturated with the awful red stuff. Blood, he didn't like that word, it was too gory. He didn't like gory things, unlike Dalton, he didn't like to hurt people. Dalton did it for a living, but he wanted to help people, Cassidy was the same way. He liked that about her, he liked his sister because she was so nice. Contrary to Dalton, and their parents. He was so glad that he found her in time, in that old place before they killed her. They hated Cassie so much more than they hated him and Dalton, if that was possible. They were so cruel to her, locking her up in the basement at night, refusing to let her out. She was scared of the basement, she said there were monsters, and things hiding in the shadows. He remembered all the horrible sounds coming from the basement when his parents went down there with her, they punished her for the slightest things. One time, when she broke a plate, they locked her in the trunk of the car for a day. An entire day. Dawson didn't dare defy his parents to let her out, but he would sit and talk to her when they weren't looking. They were best friends.

Cassidy was just scared, she didn't like it down here, and he was going to take her back to her room. He fixed it up for her, all nice and cozy, like she had always wanted. Lace, she loved lace. He thought about buying her a beautiful lace dress, she never had one before, it would make her feel pretty and elegant. Isn't that what little girls liked, to feel pretty? But Cassie wasn't a little girl anymore, she was growing up so quickly, his sweet baby sister wasn't a little girl. So what would he get her? She needed new clothes; blood was now caked on the inside of her skirt, he could see it through the white. The red liquid stopped seeping out of the cuts, which was good, but the back of her shirt had several tears. His little sister deserved more than that, more than torn clothes and dirty basements, and he was going to give it to her.

"Cassie?" he pulled her close, and cradled her, still cautious of her wounds, "Cassie, it's me your brother, Dawson."

She was still asleep; he smiled at the sight of his sister looking so peaceful. He laid her down gently, rose off the floor, and bent down again to pick her up.

He carried her back up the stairs, through the corridor, and into her room. He noticed the sheets were tainted with that red stuff; he didn't want her sleeping in that, so he went back across the hall to the living room, and placed her on the couch. She could fit on that perfectly, she really wasn't that tall. Yet. He grabbed the throw blanket from the armrest close to her bare, swollen feet, and covered her with it. She stirred slightly, possibly from the warmth, but she didn't wake up.

He would have to find some shoes for her to wear as well, she couldn't walk around outside without any thing on her feet, she would get frostbite! It was much too cold for her out there now, much, much too cold. It would snow later on tonight, so he had to get to town before the weather set in. He would have to be discreet, most people would probably recognize him, the local police were displaying pictures of him and Cassidy for some reason. He didn't do anything wrong, Cassie didn't anything wrong, so why were they attacking them? Dalton must have done something, Dalton did everything wrong.

Shrugging it off, he planted a goodbye kiss to Cassidy's forehead, and started off. He grabbed his coat, scarf, gloves, and hat from the closet by the entry door, donned them, and stepped out into the cold. He almost forgot to lock the door, someone might have found them, and taken his Cassidy. No one would take her away from him again, he had just found her, he wasn't about to lose her.

He would take care of her, every day, and she would be happy.

He'd make sure of it.

* * *

Dr. Abbott sat alone, in his armchair, by the lit fireplace.

The fire's glow surrounded the shining locket in his hands. He didn't know what to do with it, he wanted to give it back, but he didn't know where this Tony Hale lived. Or did he? No, he didn't. Blast his age, and all of its problems! If he only had Margaret, she would know exactly what to do. His wife passed away five years ago, of dementia, such a cruel disease. He missed her greatly, so much in fact, that he needed to return that locket.

He knew that the boy needed something from his love to remind him of her during this difficult time, he understood what he was going through. He understood the look the boy got in his eyes, the dreamy look, he had that look once. The doctor understood how he would want to keep everything secret, the two being so active in the media's eyes. Especially the girl. He saw her on the news several times, talking about certain things, she appeared to be a sweet little thing too. She smiled often when she was talking about her faith. He understood that, Margaret was the same way.

There wasn't a lot the aging doctor didn't understand, he could relate to most of his patients problems, that's why he was so popular among them. He could relate to their issues. He loved to sit and talk with them during treatments, he even chatted with the girl while the nurses were checking her over. Whitney, was it? Yes, that was her name, Whitney. He didn't see that name often, it was rather unusual, but he liked that, it made everyone unique. Individuality, now that was becoming rare, all the craziness and conformity. Conformity, that was an odd word, conformity. Strange, very strange. What did it mean again? Oh, yes, compliance. Compliance, another strange, overused word. Why couldn't someone use a different word that meant the same thing? Like, amenability, now, that was a word!

Dr. Abbott gradually ascended from his chair, knees wobbling as he stood upright. He needed to return this, so who would he call? Oh well, he would figure it out sooner or later, he always did. But right now, he needed to rest, he felt tired and drained after answering all those questions the, what was it? FBI, those people, asked him. He carefully walked up the stairs, placed the locket on the nightstand, and went to the bathroom to take a nice, warm bath before bedtime. It would help him think. He felt sorry for that Tony person, he knew what must be traveling through his mind. Thoughts, horrible, dreadful thoughts. Maybe...having the locket would help him.

He needed to give it back.

* * *

**A/N The flashback episode I told you about is this couple, now the girl eventually dies soon after all the lovey stuff by a speeding car, and the boy feels responsible. He saw the licence plate, but can't remember. See why I couldn't resist? And yes, Désirée is a French name. Please feel free to correct me, I was bored, and I looked up the origins of that name to see if I could add anything interesting to Desiree's background, and lo and behold-it was French. So...there you have it. And the reason I added Dr. Abbott's point of view again was because he has great importance later on. What kind of importance? I can not tell you. So, with that, I leave you guessing. **

**Oh, and I have some exciting news! I've been accepted into an original fiction short story competition! I just was so excited that I had to tell you guys! :)**


	11. Chapter 11: Fallacies

**A/N So sorry for not uploading sooner, I re-wrote this chapter about five times, and I'm still not happy with it. But, good news, I have half of the next chapter ready. If I don't re-write the thing, I've already done that twice already.**

**Oh, and yes, Dawson is, was, mentally ill. Did I convey that properly? I always get nervous when I write from a character's point of view-which is all the time.**

* * *

Tony could only see black.

...his eyes were closed, well, that solved things in a hurry.

When he opened them, he saw her. Whitney. Leaning over him, close to his face, her skin and hair radiating from sunlight.

"What took you so long?" she asked with a slight smile and a tilt of her head.

Whitney, the girl who had been missing for nearly two days was right in front of him!

"Whit, you're supposed to be gone!" he exclaimed, pushing himself up on his forearms.

"What do you mean? I've been here ever since you fell asleep, darling. You've been dreaming." she gently coaxed him back down, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"But, you're not real!"

At this she smiled, leaned in closer, and pressed her lips to his smoothly.

"Am I real enough now?" she asked, a flirtatious tone to her voice.

Maybe, this wasn't a dream.

"Very," he moved a hand to rest on the back of her neck and pulled her back down, letting their lips meet in a passionate caress. He slowly moved his arms to wrap around her waist, and flipped her over, breaking the kiss.

"Hey, take it easy!" she giggled, her light laughter filling his ears.

"The dream was so real, Whit." he said, his voice full of emotion, "I lost you for so long."

"I had no idea," she shook her head slightly, lifting a hand to touch his cheek, "I'm sorry, darling. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, no, that's okay. I think, I just want to make sure."

He moved from over top of her carefully, scanning over her as he sat beside her. She appeared to be real, this place even appeared to be real. He could feel the comfortable texture of the picnic blanket underneath his hands. He could hear the gentle, soothing sounds of the birds chirping through the light summer breeze. It was almost too realistic, the area was unimaginably serene, and undisturbed. Quite unusual for Central Park, but then again, they had a knack for discovering reposeful places such as this.

Her yellow sundress blended with her hair and the light shining its way through the green leaves of the park's trees, making her seem angelic. She had one of those daisies in her hair, he probably gave it to her, they were her favorite flower. Oddly, she had her locket around her neck. Why was she wearing it out where people could see? Not that he minded in general, after all, he gave it to her. He loved it when she was able to wear it; maybe she put it on after they were alone?

But were they truly alone...

For a minute he forgot where they were, but one look around and he instantly recognized the property. They were in the park, an open space, not their spot. What were they doing here? They never met in a public space unless it was all four of them, lest the ever-stalking paparazzi caught up with them, and if by some terrible mistake that the photographers just happened to snap a picture of them together, it was bye-bye birdie for a little while. At least for a few weeks, until some other poor soul got trapped in the suffocating intensity of the media's spotlight.

He kept his eyes on Whitney as she clasped her hands together on her stomach, closing her eyes as another gentle wisp of wind blew over her face. She seemed so real, and who was he to contradict himself like this? She was here, this didn't seem like a dream, and he missed her. Everything was fine, perfectly fine, but he had to make her promise something. That dream made him realize a truth; he couldn't lose her, like that, or any other way.

"Whit?" he kept staring at her peaceful expression, incapable of taking his eyes off her.

"Yes?" she pushed herself up into a sitting position, smiling at him.

"I love you," he moved closer, and wrapped his arms around her waist, staring into her eyes, "Promise you won't leave me."

"That must have been a horrible dream, I'm so-"

"Promise me."

"Of course, darling. I promise."

"Good," he pulled her close and let their lips touch again.

"I love you, Tony." she confessed after they broke apart, her nose barely touching his.

Tony smiled before asking, "This might sound a little weird but...do people know about, us?" he combed his fingers through her hair. She looked puzzled, but she nodded, affirming his question.

"Then, everything in my dream-"

"It was just a dream, everything is alright, I'm right here."

He couldn't stand it any longer, and he brought her forward again. He enjoyed this, having her close again, kissing her. He pressed their lips together one time after the other, and Whitney just let him kiss her. Several times.

When they finally stopped, she spoke, "I hate to say it, but I think you should have those dreams more often."

"Very funny, Stane. Very funny." he teased her, "That wasn't very nice though."

"Tony...you've got that look in your eye," she scooted back,

"What look?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"_That_ look."

"I don't know what_ that_ look is, obviously I can't see myself in a mirror."

"The playful one."

"And what's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing it's ju-"

He gently pushed her down and tickled her sides, laughing along with her as she tried to push his hands away.

"Tony!" she laughed, "Alright, alright, I take it back, I take it back!" she put her arms around his neck after he stopped, and he lifted her back up.

"Wow, how did that taste coming out of your mouth?" he asked, still holding her.

"Like vinegar," she answered bluntly, "But you can be very...persuasive, I'll give you that."

"I'll do us both a favor, and take that as a compliment." he tugged her closer to him, pressing his lips to the side of her mouth.

She smiled timidly at his affectionate action, looking away as a rosy blush crept up on her cheeks. He took that as permission, and pulled her even closer. To this, the familiar sight of goosebumps appeared on her arms, a sure sign that she was becoming reserved. In order to respect her silent wishes, he let her go, and she brushed back a wave of her hair blown into her face by the breeze, still silent.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, now worried.

"No," she said lightly, playing with her fingers.

"If you want, we can do something else."

She gazed up at him through thick eyelashes, another one of her bashful gestures.

"Anything wrong, Whit?"

"I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

She audibly gulped, smoothing the skirt of her dress, "I'm pretty confident that I-that I really, really, really love you, Tony. And I mean, really."

"I know," he trailed a comforting hand down her arm, trying to make her more comfortable.

"You don't understand," she lifted her head to look at him, "I want to be with you forever, and I actually mean that. I stayed up half the night wondering if this was right, and it is." she pressed her lips to his cheek before whispering, "You're a dream come true for me, and I want to make you happy for the rest of my life."

He couldn't contain the wide smile on his face from Whitney's words, and right then, he decided that he was going to tell her something he had thought about for quite a while,

Their engagement.

"You're amazing, you know that? I wanted this to be a surprise, but I've been thinking about this for a long time and," her eyes went wide as he delicately plucked the daisy from her hair, "I guess for now, this will have to do. I had a whole speech planned and everything, but it's nothing you don't already know; I was going to tell you that you're like a giant beacon of light, guiding me through any kind of fog, or darkness. I was going to tell you how much you mean to me, every day, and how I want to make sure that you never regret choosing to marry me, if you say yes that is. And I wanted to tell you how, shocked, I am that you let me love you. You could've had anyone, and you chose me. And I was going to say how the ring is like a promise; a promise to love, honor, and cherish you for the rest of my life, but since this flower here is a stand in, I don't know how that'd fit."

By the end, she was biting her lip, and openly tearing up.

"Well, here goes. Whitney Stane...will you marry me?"

She nodded, and choked out, "Yes."

He released a breath of air, and embraced her, keeping the daisy in his hand.

When they let go, Tony glanced at the flower, then back at her, "Can you keep this until I'm able to get a real engagement ring?"

"I'll try not to lose it," she smiled as he placed the flower gently in her hair.

They stared into each other's eyes, electric meeting ice in an affectionate gaze.

"I can't believe it," she shook her head lightly,

"It's okay if you're not ready, Whit. I completely understand, and it wasn't very nice of me to force that on you. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to do this. I mean, we're young, we've got a lot of ti-" he was silenced by a pair of soft, warm lips.

Whitney pulled away with a light pop, "And here I am, thinking you knew everything about me. Of course I want to marry you, jerk!" she punched his arm playfully, a sparkle in her eye.

"You have a way of making me feel really bad," he sniffed, faking hurt.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Marry me?"

"I'll think about it."

He slid his arms around her, and kissed her. Meaning to hold it for as long as he could as he pulled her even closer, and he felt her arms around his neck.

This, this wasn't a dream.

This was pure bliss.

Out of nowhere, and without warning, the sky grew dark, a complete gray, overshadowing the couple in their moment of affection.

She pulled away with a puzzled glint in her eyes, and she glanced up and looked around, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," he got up, and reached down a hand to help her up.

_"How can you not know what's going on?" _

That voice. He recognized that voice.

He grabbed her arm as she stood up and they both looked around for the source of the voice.

_"You are the protective type, aren't you?"_

The voice was back, now even closer. It wasn't possible, none if it was possible. None of this should be possible.

_"Oh, I assure you, I am very possible."_

The voice was in front of them!

She let out a small, surprised yelp at the sight of the man, and Tony placed in arm in front of her, gradually pushing her behind him.

"Who are you?" he demanded,

_"You don't know who I am? I'm your nightmare, I've always been your nightmare. Remember? You're afraid of me, you've always been afraid of me."_

She clutched his shoulders as he stepped forward, "Look, pal, I don't know who you are. Do yourself a favor, and go away," he stared down the intruding man, "Please?" he added after the man stepped closer, eyeing Whitney.

_"You're scared of losing her to me, aren't you? Yes, you are. I know everything that goes on in your mind, every little thought."_

She held on to him tighter, "Leave us alone," she tried to sound threatening, but her voice squeaked in fear instead.

_"How cute. Isn't she cute, Tony? I think she is."_ the man continued to advance on the couple, his emerald eyes firmly locked on her.

"Alright, that's it. Listen here, creep, I don't know who the heck you think you are, but you stay away from her!" Tony gently pushed her back even more, stepping forward again to fully confront the man.

_"Brave, are we? I wouldn't be so confident...if...I were you." _

"Tony, don't, let's just leave. It's fine."

He could hear Whitney's quivering behind him, but he wasn't leaving until he gave this weirdo a piece of his mind. Who did that guy think he was? Waltzing up in here, staring at her, acting like a creeper. Well, no creeper was going to scare her and get away with it! No, sir, not on his watch!

"Last warning before I get rough with you mister, stop messing around with her unless you want a black eye." he glared at the man, being as intimidating as he could.

But the man kept staring.

"Okay then, if that's how you want it," he started to march forward when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Come on, Tony, please, let's go away from here." Whitney pleaded,

Tony turned around to give her a reassuring smile, then turned around again to face the man, "If I catch you near her, ever, you're going to find yourself in a hospital, got it?"

The man smiled, _"It's too late for that." _then he disappeared, completely evaporating into the wind.

One bang,

One gasp,

One thud.

Whitney collapsed to the ground after the bullet pierced her chest, near her ribs. He watched her go down; his pulse raced, and time slowed down as he applied pressure to the wound. But it was too late, it was always too late, he was always too late. He could never save her, every time this night terror happened, he couldn't save her. She always died in his arms, staring up at him through those eyelashes, the innocent eyes glazing over as red liquid seeped through both of his hands. It was always the same; she would always choke out 'I love you', she would always cough exactly two times before finally giving in, and letting go.

He would always beg her to come back, but she wouldn't.

It was always the same.

* * *

Tony shot up from the bed, covered in a cold sweat, and breathing heavily.

Why did it have to be her? Why her, instead of him? She trusted him, she trusted him with her life. Her life. She trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms! He deserved the nightmares, he deserved to suffer because of what he did. He left her. He would never forgive himself, never, it was his job to protect her. He didn't. What kind of boyfriend was he? A stupid one. He triggered an alarm because he was _stupid, _blinded by the mere thought of her, he was senseless. Foolish. He choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands. He would give his life for her, that's how much he loved her, he loved her enough to gladly die for her. He would gladly take everything for her; everything, and anything. She was so innocent, child-like innocent, truly one in a million. No other girl, or person, would be as faithful as she was. There were no words to describe when she looked up at him, those eyes, full of wonder, and devotion. With pure, and utter adoration.

He couldn't go back to school in the morning, he just couldn't. He couldn't imagine walking past her locker, seeing the flowers there, or hearing all the gossip from his classmates. It was too painful to even think about it, but he had to, she would want it that way, but he was going to see to it that she wasn't missing for long. He would do every possible thing he could to ensure her safe return. The FBI issued an Amber Alert for her tonight, or at least that's what Pepper told him, she said they even notified the Canadian Border Patrol to be on the lookout.

Like he should be doing.

The dream played back in his mind as he laid his head back down on the pillow, steadying his breathing. The one thing that affected him the most about the nightmares was that he proposed to her, with a daisy. The same one he gave to her when they were nine, for Valentine's day.

And she would always say yes.

He wanted to marry her, he wanted to cherish her, forever, and there was a chance that he might not be able to do that. That he would never have one last kiss with her, one last sweet, tender moment. He became sort of addicted to that small blush, the gentle laugh, her timid voice. Around her, he felt six again, he felt happy, truly happy. He wanted to make her feel the same way, and as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, he was going to give her something that would surely cause her to be that way. He was going to take her out to dinner...and ask her to marry him. Right then and there. He was going to give her the very thing she never had, but so desperately wanted, a family. She loved children, and he wanted her to have them. With him, of course. He was going to give her a wonderful home, and whatever she wanted, he would provide for her. For a lifetime, he would see to it that she had everything she ever needed, or wanted, and he would never hurt her.

He was never going to make the mistake of causing her to cry; he did that once. They fought pretty hard one night, yelling at one another. He couldn't remember what they were arguing about, but at one point, they almost broke up. It was difficult to believe now, but they almost did. He asked her if that was what she wanted, to go their separate ways, and she didn't respond. He took that as a yes, and started to walk away. He only got as far as a few feet when she threw her arms around his neck from behind him, and begged him not to leave her. She apologized, and asked him to forgive her. He did. He would always forgive her, and he would always care for her.

Once she was well enough to have visitors at the hospital, it would take a considerable amount of force to tear him away from her. Most likely the joined forces of Rhodey, and Pepper. Even then, he would return almost instantly once he got away from them. Now, once she got home, that would be a separate story altogether. As soon as he got her alone, he wouldn't be able to stop holding her, kissing her, just cherishing her. He couldn't wait until either he, or some law enforcement agency, found her, and brought her home. He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again, and hear that soft, contented sigh.

Hopefully, he would be able to track her using every resource he could get his hands on,

Or he would die trying.

* * *

Red. Black. Blue. Green. Different colors, so many different colors.

Whitney saw lights, different colored lights, flash before her eyes. Was she dead? She had to be dead, everything was so black, now it was red again. Why couldn't she open her eyes?

"Cassidy!"

She heard a voice, a strange, but familiar voice. Was it her dad's? No, no, it was too deep. Definitely too deep to be Tony's. He had such a calming voice when he spoke to her, soothing and caring.

"Cassie, wake up!"

Wake up. She wanted to, but her eyelids felt like giant weights, she couldn't move anything. Why couldn't she move? Her back felt all warm and sticky, like she was laying in something. What was it? The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she needed to cough to get it out. It was choking her, she didn't like it. She could smell copper, or what smelled like copper. She didn't like that either. She wanted to talk, to say something, but all that came out was a gurgle. That metallic taste was back again, the one she didn't like, and the choking thingy.

"Hold on, Cassie, I'm going to get you to a hospital."

The deep voice was back. Why was she going to a hospital? Oh, she didn't care, those lights were back. They were pretty, she liked them, she liked watching them dance around the blackness. Little dancers, that was funny; tiny, little, dottie things dancing. Imagine, dots dancing! Dottie, one of her Sunday school kids. Dorothy was such a sweet girl, could never grasp the flood though, no matter how many times you explained it to her, but sweet, very sweet. She would teach at her church when Mrs. Garner wasn't in. She liked that, she liked teaching the little kids a lot. They were nice.

She felt like she was moving, a very faint sensation, but prevalent enough to entice her out of her present delirium. She didn't want to leave, it was peaceful there, serene, harmonious. She felt happy there, in her little place with the little dots. Her glamorous, dazzling lights. Her perfect fairyland.

The next thing she knew, people started to crowd around her, strange. They were asphyxiating her, they were so close. She wanted to tell them to stop, but she couldn't speak, that choking thing was back again. She found that she didn't have the strength to cough, she couldn't do anything, she was stuck. Her mind fogged with fear, and anxiety. Where was she? Who were those suffocating people? Almost immediately after these thoughts passed through her mind, she could breathe again, something hurt, but she could breathe. That was the important thing. Or was it? Something was wrong; her back flared up, like flames were engulfing her body. She wanted to scream, she wanted to let someone out there know she was in pain. Horrible pain. It felt awful, truly awful, not being able to communicate even slightly.

Light, bright light, crossed over her closed eyelids. What were those people doing, trying to blind her?

"She'll be fine."

She heard someone say something; not the deep voice, but a calm one, quite monotone. It freaked her out. Another voice that she had to figure out, possibly someone she didn't know.

"She looks familiar." another voice, a female one. Older, perhaps mid-forties, not too old.

"She does, doesn't she?" same voice as before, the dreary one,"Hello there, little one. Can you open your eyes for me?"

The bored voice changed, it turned happy. Forcefully happy. There was a difference between the real thing and the fake that she was all too familiar with.

She tried fluttering her eyes like the voice asked, and they opened.

The light was blinding, but the two people leaning over her were blocking it a bit, which was good. The light began to hurt her eyes, and she squinted to see more accurately as her vision cleared. This place looked like a hospital, what she could see of it that is. Something felt weird, her body felt all mushy, and pliable. She wanted to speak, but she couldn't, there was something down her throat. It hurt, she didn't like it, and she wanted that thing out. She narrowed her eyes, and concentrated, trying to move something, anything, but it didn't work. But at a tediously slow pace, she began to regain feeling in her limbs. She felt a needle in her arm, and now, something was down her throat, and something else sticking out of her arm. Who were these people anyway? They were mean, treating her like this, not letting her speak.

"There we go. Do you know where you are?"

The other voice, the woman's, spoke next. That voice sounded like Valarie's. Valarie...Tony...Pepper...Rhodey. Where were they? If she was in the hospital, they would be right by her side. No, they couldn't be here, because she wasn't home, she wasn't home at all. She was with somebody else, someone frightening, terrifying, a real monster. Her eyes widened in fear; _where_ was she? She tried to cry, and a small tear released from her eyes. At least those people would know she was upset.

"It's okay, don't be afraid. Everything is going to be okay. We're going to take the tube out now, okay?"

She couldn't nod, but she wanted that thing out. She closed her eyes as the nurse swiftly removed the tube with obvious experience. She coughed as her throat constricted against the plastic intruder, and she started to cry harder, tears falling like raindrops down her face.

"There now, it's all over. You did such a good job!" The lady praised her, but all she could do was cry.

She was scared, so scared. The monster would come and take her away again. Why couldn't they just leave her? She had undeniably been close to death, close to Heaven. Why couldn't they have let her die? She remembered something; she couldn't die, she had a life waiting for her, she had friends waiting for her. She even had someone special waiting for her, who loved her. Tony. The very thought of her lover's name caused her heart to grow heavy, exactly like the times when they weren't able to see each other.

When the gossip magazines started to...gossip...again, they had to lay low. They couldn't risk it. During that time, however, they would do anything just to brush the other's hand, bump into one another, anything to initiate some sort of contact. She would drop her books so she could gaze at him for a few irreplaceable seconds, falsely trip over a chair so he would catch her, ask for help with her Physics homework so she could lean against him. Just a few subtle, simple touches could send her to the moon. Way, way up high, like she could touch the stars she had always admired. Sometimes, even Tony himself would start to do things to get close to her; he would tap his pencil on her notebook when they sat together in the library, quickly touch her shoulder as he talked with her, even gave her lingering glances. All those things somewhat alleviated the distress of not being with him.

It was physically painful to be without him for a certain amount of time.

"Can you talk, are you in pain?" The man she had assumed to be a doctor asked her a question, and she was able to nod. Of course she was in pain, was he an idiot? That plastic hurt her throat, and her heart felt broken from thinking of her friends, and family. Especially Tony.

"We're going to call your brother in now, okay? He'll be in to see you, and we'll get you something for that throat of yours." The nurse smiled at her, and the doctor came back over with a tiny, turquoise cup as the nurse left.

"This will make your throat feel better," he informed, lifting her head slightly and bringing the small cup to her lips, and gradually tilted it back.

Whatever that liquid was, it felt wonderful sliding down her stinging throat, her eyes shut again at the comfort.

"Alright," the cup left, "Does it feel better now?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again.

"Can you talk to us?" The nurse returned,

She nodded, and opened her mouth slightly, just as _he_ came in the room. Her breathing became shallower, and hurried. Her eyes widened, and she tried to move to get away from Walsh's approaching form.

"What's the matter, Cassie?" Walsh tried to hold her hand, but she swiftly moved it away, still staring at him with widened eyes.

"Keep him away from me!" she rasped, hyperventilating.

"What is she talking about?" The doctor asked with an accusing tone,

"I don't know, she's never acted like this before! She got into a fight with a few teenagers at her school the other day, and they really took her down."

"That's not true, don't believe him, he did this to me! Please, keep him away from me!" Whitney started sobbing as the nurse tried to comfort her by patting her hand.

"I'm sorry but in her present condition, we can't allow you in the room if you're upsetting her." the doctor started to usher the man out, but Walsh grabbed the doctor's wrist and twisted it.

"And I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to leave." the man, of which she had observed to have switched to the "Dalton" alternate personality, collided his fist with the side of the doctor's face, immediately knocking him out. The nurse shrieked as the man swiftly approached her, clasping his hands around her neck.

Whitney squeezed her eyes shut, preventing herself from witnessing the terrifying scene in front of her. She struggled to move, to get away, but her body didn't coöperate. All she received from her endeavors was slight movements, and minor twitches. She figured out why the man had such rapid mood swings; he had an alternate personality, multiple personality disorder. Not much was known on the condition, just that it was brought on by a traumatic past, and that it could be dangerous.

She knew about the last part from the beginning.

"Trying to block it out, Whit?" The man taunted, close to her.

Her eyes flew open to see Walsh leaning over her bed, eyes fierce and threatening as they stared at her in hatred.

"No," she whimpered as he lifted her up, shaking her head.

"Here, you see that," he pointed to the nurse, and the now dead physician, "You caused their deaths. Think about it; if you hadn't been stupid, I wouldn't have killed them. How does it feel to be a murderer?" his grip tightened on her arm as she started to struggle. Not taking any more chances, he punched her in the stomach, his fist hitting her sternum. She coughed, and doubled over, almost falling over the bed.

"Time to say good-night, Winnie." The man sing-songed before he hit the side of her face with a closed hand, causing her to instantly black out.

The man heard a voice immediately after hitting Whitney, his brother's voice, inside his head. Scolding him. Dawson was scolding _him?_ No one, especially his brother, had a right to tell him what to do!

"Shut up, Dawson!" he shouted to nothing, "Once I get my hands around your scrawny little neck-no, no you brought this upon yourself! You shouldn't have taken the girl, you've ruined everything! Now, I'll have to punish you. Yes, Dawson, Cassidy too."

* * *

**A/N So, kind of cliffhangery, and we're not even close end yet, just so you know. ****I can't help it, writing long stories is like...caffeine to me. It keeps me from being bored out of my mind! Okay, so I was being a tad dramatic, but I _do_ love writing long stories.**

**Oh, and the competition I told you about in the last chapter? Well, I'll know if I made it to the next round in a week...**


	12. Chapter 12: The Beginning of the End

**A/N Only a few words this time around: Walsh creeps the bejeebers outta me. Seriously, I cannot write his character without shivering. Also, this whole chapter is just depressing, highly depressing. I re-wrote it like, four times...each time moving in a different direction. Completely different. I might've cried multiple times while writing it too...  
**

* * *

Dalton Walsh left his victim bleeding in the basement.

He was going to leave her down there, and Dawson wouldn't interfere. His brother was persistent when it came to that wretched thing, he actually wanted to take care of her after what she made them do, she almost gave them away! Years, and years of hiding up in the mountains, and staying out of sight would have gone to waste, down the drain, like a snap of a finger. He worked too hard to keep this place intact just for some stupid little girl to ruin it!

So, he disposed of him.

Dalton killed his brother, quickly, and it was worth it, and now that he was rid of his annoying sibling, all he wanted to do was clamp his hands around "Cassidy's" neck, and squeeze the life out of her, but he couldn't do that, it wasn't painful enough. He loved to hear his victims cry and beg as he took their lives, but they couldn't beg when he was choking them. No, it would have to be worse than that. Much, much worse.

He could barely contain his excitement from the anticipation.

She was afraid of the dark, typical, he knew from experience how to exploit that certain fear. The _thing_ was beginning to show signs of fright, what with everything he did to her down there, that was to be expected. Dalton abused her with the cattle prod he modified, Sparky, so much so that she started begging for him to stop. It was sweet music to his ears. He cherished the adorable sounds his victims made as he tortured them, taking his time to draw out the shrillest of cries. It wasn't fun if they couldn't scream anymore, and that's when he killed them, freeing up the spot for the next unwilling person. But the victim now locked in the basement could still make those delicious noises, so he wouldn't get rid of her just yet.

But Dalton was worried about the blood loss, he didn't want her to escape his grasp so easily, much less from a death not brought by his own hand.

He whipped her again; chained her to the wall with her back facing him, and laid strike after strike to her quivering body. With an electrical whip this time. Oh, how she screamed! He had to control himself after the thirtieth strike, too caught up in the beautiful echoes to care if she was bleeding too much. He didn't let her pass out though, before he began the punishment, he injected her with a substance that would prevent her from getting away from the pain prematurely. He possibly struck her more than fifty times, with the electric current activated of course. What was the use of having such a unique object if he didn't put it to use?

Dalton washed the red liquid off his hands in the kitchen sink before drying them on a dishrag, intently observing the blood as it swirled down the drain. Maybe he got a little too hasty with her punishment, and hurt her too much at once? He vaguely remembered every device used, there were so many. He remembered all the begging, however.

He cherished them.

The pleads as he pushed his little Sparky into the wound in her thigh, how she begged when he struck her with the whip, even the way she collapsed at his feet when he finished beating her. Dalton never liked to use his fists to inflict punishment, there were so many other ways to produce even greater pain. But after he had exhausted every other weapon? Yes...it was the perfect, perfect end to a torture session. Dalton could still hear her whimpers from the basement, maybe he could squeeze a little more fun out of her...probably not, that would be too much for her to handle. He didn't want her to die. Yet.

He clamped her wrists down to the arms of a chair, bound her ankles together, and left her in the dark. Alone. With only her vivid imagination to keep her company. He assumed that she thought of something terrifying, or perhaps even him! Wonderful thought, her being afraid of him, it made him excited. He loved to see his victims squirm as he approached them, the sheer, sweet terror in their eyes as he got close to them...with a weapon. He loved those too, but all of his other toys were at his playhouse, he couldn't get to them because some idiot infiltrated it. He was concerned that they might be monitoring it with one of their pitiful surveillance vans. He had enough experience to despise them, thank you very much. Did they honestly think they could find her?

Imbeciles.

He never kept a victim for this long before, it hardly ever occurred to him. All the others were boring, not her, she fought back. But she would break soon enough, she was breaking already. Her eyes pleaded to be killed...interesting...she wanted to be killed...he would have to look into that, but right now, he wanted her to break. Shatter. Be crushed. He needed to break her, immediately. He couldn't wait any longer. She had to be destroyed.

The man rushed back through the basement door to find her exactly as he left her: metal clamps holding her wrists in place; blood dripping from her back like a leaky faucet; her head drooping, and breaths shuddering. Exactly the way he intended.

"Whitney," he sang, "Are you happy to see me? It's time to play some more."

He heard a faint groan, and with a pleased grin, he stalked over to her, lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes. They looked frightened, so, so frightened. Perfect.

"Aw, do you not like this game?" he rubbed her bruised cheek with his other hand, "We don't have to play if you don't want to."

Hope. He saw hope flash through those eyes, but it wouldn't be there for long.

"Then again, you don't have a choice."

There, it was gone, a cold glaze took its place.

She stared back at him with blank eyes, "Kill me." she wanted him to dispose of her too!

"You want to die? Well, you're not the first, deary."

"Please."

"Nope, sorry. Not yet, but soon. Do you know what I'm going to do with you now?" he yanked her head back by her hair, using his height as an advantage over her so she would feel small. Intimidation. Very effective. "Something very, very unpleasant. It'll get rid of you gradually, but it _will_ kill you in the end." he let the locks go, and as soon as her eyes met his, he backhanded her, making her nose start to bleed again.

He glared down at her, savoring the look of pain, and misery in her returned gaze, "But first, let's build up to the joyous occasion shall we?" he glanced around the room, "Lets see, hmm, what to do, what to do," he turned back to her, "What do you think sweetheart? Another session with the whip, or would you like to try something new?"

He smoothed her lips with his thumb, "Although, I am getting kind of bored with you. Ah, forget it, let's just get this over with so I can move on. I'll grant your wish, I'll get rid of you too." his victim's eyes were locked on his as he played with a strand of her dirty, sweat-damped hair.

Dalton wanted to try something. He'd been entertaining a theory for some time now, about her friend, Tony. But with this experiment, he would have to run the risk of losing his toy, but would be worth it to prove a nagging thought in the back of his mind.

He moved closer to her face, his breath ghosting over her lips, earning him a terrified shudder, "Do you have any idea what your boyfriend does when you're not looking?"

The man knew this assumption was incorrect, his theory was a definite contradiction of this hypothesis, but the mere suggestion of her love potentially "cheating," or perhaps the notion that he only cared about her because of her heritage would crush the living soul out of her, and that was all he cared about. Crushing her.

"Do you know why he left you in the middle of the night?" he watched the confusion enter her eyes, "Have you ever even thought about it? No. Because you're oblivious to the facts. He doesn't love you, nor does he care about you, you're a tool, just another _weapon_ to use against your father. Why? Because you're a blind, hopeless romantic who had the audacity to fall for your daddy's mortal enemy. He hates you. The only reason he tolerates your presence is because you know what's going on. You're an ignorant fool, the perfect pawn for a game that's being played well above your pathetic head." he inwardly smiled as the tears streamed down her face at his words, "You've been right all along, deary. No one will ever love you, all because of your last name."

"Stop it, stop it!" she cried, finally cracking, "You're lying, he loves me, he does love me! You're a liar, a liar!"

"Are you so sure? What better way to get on the inside than through a love-struck daughter? You're forgetting, pet, that your so-called _'darling'_ has a score to settle. A very big score, if I might add."

"You're wrong, you're wrong!"

"No, I'm quite right."

She shook her head, eyes dropping to the floor and over-flowing with tears, "He loves me," she repeated, "I know he loves me."

Satisfied with his verbal abuse, Dalton patted her head, "Now that you've seen the light, it's time for you to be taken away into the darkness..."

* * *

Tony tapped his pencil on the desk impatiently, his head in his hand, barely paying attention to the lecture being given, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

Whitney.

The empty chair he had passed when entering was now occupied by the missing teen. Like nothing ever happened. With a haunting turn of her head, she looked at him, an endearing smile on her face that caused her eyes to sparkle with joy. Dropping the pencil, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, but when he opened them again...

She was gone.

He should've known it was just an illusion, a figment of his wistful imagination, nothing but a blind hope. As the bell rang, and the teacher shouted "Class dismissed," he wasn't in this school anymore. He was where she was. Anywhere she went, he would follow, like a lost puppy. It was sad. Sad that he could barely function without her; barely live without her. The way he was behaving, it wasn't the way he should act; avoiding Pepper and Rhodey (people in general), how he couldn't eat anything this morning, the constant headaches, the lack of concentration (more so than normal). It all led up to a painful realization; if he didn't have her, there was no way on this earth that he could survive. If this was love, if this was how he was supposed to feel, then the whole world must have gone mad.

Mad as a hatter.

"Hey, Tony, where are you going?"

He heard what sounded like Pepper from behind him, but he just kept walking. He couldn't deal with this at the moment, not while he was thinking of ways to find her. If she wasn't already...dead.

"What's up with the avoiding thing?"

They finally caught up with him, but he couldn't let them see him like this, so messed up and confused.

"I wasn't avoiding you, I just forgot something." he tried to sound convincing, but the looks on his friends' faces were the complete opposite of convinced.

"We can help you, don't shut us out."

"No, you can't," he snapped, "Look, I'm a failure, okay? She's gone, and it's all my fault," they stared at him with shock, and disbelief. Why couldn't they leave him alone? "Go ahead, yell at me, just do something instead of treating me like I did nothing wrong, because I did! I keep seeing her, everywhere, and it's driving me crazy! I didn't sleep last night because I kept dreaming about her, I can still feel her with me, and I just can't do this...I can't do anything without her. Pitiful, isn't it?"

"No way, you just love her. Which in a gloomy kind of way is really sweet." Pepper said, earning her a nudge from Rhodey. "Ow! Keep your elbows to yourself!"

"How you two are able to stay in one piece is beyond me." he shook his head, he would never be as confident as them.

He knew they were attempting to be light-hearted just to make him feel better, but in his mind, nothing would make him happy again if he didn't have her. He understood what he was feeling now. He understood that she had become his whole life, his entire world revolved around her. She was like a bright, shining star that he revolved around, and if she dissolved from his solar system, from his life, everything would collapse into nothingness, into a complete, desolate black. Nothing would grow, nothing would prosper without his star. Without his sweet, delicate star.

Someone was speaking, he had to snap out of it...

"One: you're the guy who's desperately in love with her. Two: we have total faith in you. And three...I don't have a three, so let's just pretend that I do." Rhodey noted,

"Love conquers all, so they say. You'll find her, we know you will." Pepper beamed,

"Thanks for the encouragement," he forced a smile, that was all he could manage, a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes. Whitney always smiled so wonderfully...

"That's what friends are for."

_Friends._

In that instant, Tony made up his mind. He was going to find her himself, no excuses, he needed to do this. He needed to find her, it was his responsibility as the person she loved. He was the one who left her, he was going to be the one to find her. Regardless of the possible consequences, he had to get her back. He was her knight, she was his princess, he had to rescue her.

"Guys, we're probably going to get in trouble for this, but I'm going to go insane if we don't. So, here's the plan...the plan...never mind a plan let's just forget relying on everyone else and go find her ourselves. Are you two up for it?"

"Yeah, sure, what've we got to lose?" Rhodey responded,

"I'm totally up for it, but one question, what happens if the creep finds out?" Pepper feared,

Tony hadn't thought about that. What if Walsh made another video like the one before, only this time, worse. He did not want to think about what worse could bring about.

"I...It's a risk we have to take...I guess."

"Alright then, I'm in. I just hope my dad doesn't kill me."

"Right, so, ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be."

And with that last remark from Rhodey, the trio proceeded to sneak (rather poorly) off the Tomorrow Academy campus...

* * *

Whitney was broken.

What she went through an hour ago, was something she just couldn't handle. The electrocution, the whip, the beating, they all combined to create a level of intense, intolerable pain. The man injected her with something to keep her from passing out during the "punishment", and there were definite times where she wished that she could just die. Like when that whip hit her for the twentieth time, with the current activated, searing her skin as it broke through. That, that was the definition of pain, and suffering. It was excruciating in its severity. She begged for it to stop, she implored for it to stop, but he laughed and struck her even harder.

She felt herself breaking during those hours, it was unavoidable. The man had worn her down, he deteriorated her into a begging, crying, whimpering mess. What the man said about Tony, about her love, her first love, was even more painful. She opened up her heart to him, and told him everything. She shared her first kiss with him, and let him hold her as she fell asleep. She let him run his fingers through her hair, and call her his sweetheart. Whitney even wanted to marry him, young, spend the rest of her years with him, start a family, build a home, love, and cherish every sweet, beautiful memory they would share together, despite her looming fears of betrayal. Betrayal. The man suggested that he betrayed her, he wouldn't do that, Tony would never hurt her in any way, shape, or form. Oh, but she cried anyway. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he threw blow after verbal blow to her heart. That wasn't the only time he did so, however. He did it before, as he was _physically_ beating her, he said that after he was through with her, she would have nightmares for the rest of her life. She cried then too, not from the tangible pain, but from the emotional. Because he was right. She would never be the same after this, there would be scars, inside and out, forever.

She couldn't live like that, frightened of every tiny noise, she couldn't let herself be reduced to such a position. Tony deserved better than that. He deserved someone who could love, appreciate, and cherish him, not some horrified, paranoid, weakling who could barely make it through the day without cowering in the corner. She despised herself for admitting it, but she was scared, worse than scared. She was terrified. Already. The man knew her every little fear, and he exploited all of them. She thought she had known fear days ago, when she received the letter, but no, she couldn't even comprehend what the word fear meant.

She knew now.

The man walked away, shaking Whitney from her self-pity. He trotted off somewhere in the dark, somewhere she couldn't see, rambling off, "I haven't done this one in a while, but it's one of my favorites." her body felt heavier as Walsh strode back to her, and around the chair, attaching something to it, "This is a metal chair, correct? And metal conducts electricity. Fill in the blank for me?"

Not again.

"Please, no! Anything but that, please, I'm begging you, not again!" she struggled as best she could with the restraints as the man circled back around the chair to face her.

"I thought you wanted to die?" he trailed a finger down the side of her face, stilling her completely as the finger jumped to the wound on her thigh, circling the burned skin. she bit her lip, drawing blood as the man used his fingernail to scrap across the shallow cut, crying out only when his whole hand dug into the charred flesh, "A little goodbye present, if you will." Walsh ripped his hand away, making her lurch forward from the sudden explosion of pain.

"Now, back to the good stuff." the man trounced off behind her, and her breathing sped up.

The current turned on without warning, sending thousands of volts rushing through her system. Again. Only this time, her entire body was being electrocuted at once, not just one part of her. This, was a million times more painful than anything she had previously experienced, this redefined everything she had called "pain," she scoffed at her naïve mind.

This wasn't pain, this was unadulterated torture.

"I'll be back down in a little while. Have fun." The man said, his tone filled with pure malevolence.

How much longer? How much longer would she have to endure this before it would all end? Her screams echoed off the walls as the man exited the dark basement, leaving her to suffer alone. The electricity came in variations: there would be a sharp burst of higher voltage, then it would level off. How the man was able to accomplish this, she had no idea, but she really didn't care. Electrocution can have that effect on a person. She tossed about in the chair frantically, trying in vain to get away, but it was no use.

She was going to die, slowly...

* * *

Tony stood in the armory, reviewing the data over, and over, but nothing seemed to click.

He needed to find something, anything, that could lead him to her, but all he found were bits and pieces, absolutely nothing substantial. Apparently, the government held a tight leash on available information on..._it_. Tony wasn't going to even _think_ of that creep's name. Murdering his mom, and kidnapping Whitney? It was going down, and going down hard. With no holding back, and with no remorse.

"Okay, so, he used to live somewhere in the mountains. A deserted place called Amherst, or whatever." he switched images on the interface to display information on the town.

"Odd name." Rhodey commented,

"Yeah, but he wouldn't go back there, psychopath's _are_ pretty smart. Why would he go back to his hometown?"

"It's pretty quiet, I don't know, might be a decent spot."

"Decent spot for what?"

"You know, bad guy secret hideout stuff."

"Riiight."

"Maybe you should check it out, just to make sure."

"No problem."

"Tony?" Pepper broke her lengthy silence, still blindly staring at the floor.

"Yeah, Pep?"

"What if-"

"Hey, don't think about that. We all know her, she's fine. She's probably back-talking that freak now."

"I guess you're right." she shrugged, lifting her eyes to the interface.

"Maybe I should come to." Rhodey suggested,

"Why?"

"Someone has to take care of her while the other takes down, the creep. I think you should help her, you can't deal with that guy right now."

"She really does rely on you, Tony. Believe me, she's mentioned you in kind of...vague ways whenever we talked, she needs you." Pepper agreed,

"She doesn't know, remember?"

"Yeah, but you can let her know. Hint. Hint."

"Fine," he turned to his other friend, "But as back-up. You might wake up the entire town."

"Deal."

He breathed out forcefully, and continued to armor up.

"Be careful." Pepper warned, and he nodded his promise before he took off.

"This was a bad idea." Rhodey mumbled, heading towards the remote console.

"How come?" Pepper asked, following beside him.

"Wouldn't you be upset if some guy murdered your mom in cold blood, then kidnapped your first love?"

"Poor Tony," she shook her head in sympathy, "But it's all ending soon," she watched his downcast expression, "Right?"

"I'm just worried that he might do something before thinking it through," he climbed into the chair, and activated the link.

"You mean like...murder? Tony? Come on, he might be upset, but murder? That's crazy!"

"I don't know, it's just a thought. By the way he's been acting lately, you can tell he really does love her."

"Completely off topic, but I don't like all the gloom and doom of our last conversation, which is totally not going to happen by the way, do you think they're going to get married?"

"What?"

"Married. You know, where two-"

"I know what it means!"

"I'm right here, shouting doesn't do much except damage my ear drums."

"If you guys are finished discussing my relationship status, can I please have a little guidance over here?" Tony sounded slightly annoyed,

"Right, sorry." he turned his attention away from her, and back to the computer.

"Oh, and Rhodey, I'm not going to murder anything."

She stifled her laugh as he stared ahead in shock.

"I can hear everything you say, it goes both ways you know."

He regained his composure, "She should be nearby..."

* * *

_"That was his childhood home, so he might be there."_

"The sensors are going crazy, I can't tell if there are two people here or twenty." Tony informed his friends, who didn't respond, "Guys? Darn it, the connection broke!" he mentally chastised himself as he attempted to reestablish the link. Then he heard a scream. A pain-filled, young girl's scream.

It had to be her.

Tony tried to distinguish the source, but it echoed off of every wall inside the small house, making detection of where she was utterly impossible.

"Whit?" he shouted, a feeling of panic setting over him as the screams continued.

She had to be here, but his sensors were completely out. Someone was able to block out the signal, and he had no idea how they were able to do it, but he couldn't care less at the moment. All he was focused on at the moment was Whitney. It was her voice. It had to be her voice. And she was in pain, excruciating, intense pain.

Whitney, where are you?" he called out to the screaming voice, "Whitney!"

_"No, please! Help me!"_

"Oh no. Come on you stupid piece of spare parts, work like I want you to!"

_"User request invalid." _the rather flat, female voice of the armor replied,

"Oh for the love of all things holy, just find her darn it!"

_"Please specify."_

"For crying out loud, find Whitney! Just find Whitney!"

_"Computer has insufficient data on specified persons to carry out user request."_

"Remind me to-"

_"Turn it off, please, someone turn it off!"_

Tony jolted, temporarily stunned by the sheer anguish coating the once-joyful voice belonging to his Whitney.

"Whitney!" he called out again after the shock wore off.

"Looking for someone?" A deep, haunting voice taunted from behind.

He spun around to face the man who haunted his dreams for years. Dalton Walsh. Controlling his rage, he forced himself not to attack the man...yet. Whitney was his first priority, nothing else mattered now except her.

But, he could yell at him...

"Where is she you freak!" he released his anger by the harsh words, stepping forward to confront the towering, stoic man.

"Dying. Slowly. Like the parasite she is." the man remarked coldly, as if there wasn't a girl screaming in pain somewhere in the house.

"She is not a-" he drew back a fist, but before he threw the punch, he caught and cursed himself, forcing his fingers to uncurl, "Where is she?" he demanded, stepping forward, now face to face with his adversary.

"Find out yourself." Walsh challenged, a small amused glint in his eyes.

The maniac was enjoying this...

_"Not again, not again! Please no-AHH!"_

He could still hear her screaming, and calling out for help. It was breaking his heart, and shattering his very being. He hated this.

"What did you do to her, or so help me, I will tear you to shreds." he seethed, grabbing the front of the man's shirt, "Where is she."

The man chuckled darkly, "If you must know...wait for it."

A loud ear-piercing shriek ripped through the thick, tense air, stirring something deep inside of Tony's soul. Fear.

"There, another burst, electric chairs are very painful aren't they?"

He tightened his grip on the man's shirt, "I will kill you. I will. Tell me where she is."

"Go ahead! While you spend time with me, sweet little Whitney is having thousands of volts surge through her tiny body. Can't you hear her?"

_"Oh,"_ he heard her groan, _"Make it stop!"_

"She's dying." the man spat, "I can hear the pain in her voice. Can't you? Can you hear her suffering?"

"Where. Is. Whitney." Tony balled the shirt into his fists,

"Why do you care do much? After all, she _is_ the daughter of your worst enemy. Why not just let her die?"

_Because I love her..._

"Because I'm not a cold-hearted psychopath like you. Tell me now!"

As he was thinking about hitting the man, he heard a small gurgling sound, like someone was choking on water.

"What an awful way to die, choking on your own blood. Not that I care. As long as she dies in excruciating pain, I'm fine with it." the man shrugged, angering Tony with his stoical attitude about the girl he loved.

He shook the man roughly, "Tell me where the heck she is before I turn you into Swiss cheese!" he threatened, fully intending to it carry out. He didn't care at this point, she was dying. His star was dissolving, and he didn't know where it was.

The man remained silent, an insulting smirk on his face, and that was all it took. With a solid punch, Tony left the man knocked out on the floor.

"Okay, think Stark think!" he talked aloud, "A place to hide a someone...something sub-level, possibly cold, atmosphere of terror and dread, her fear of the dark...basement! She's in the basement!"

He nearly jumped for joy at his valid conclusion, stopping himself when he heard the repeated cries of his love. Thinking quickly, he raced to the one area in the home where a basement door could be located.

And he found it.

He broke open the door in a frantic frenzy, splintering the wood, and causing oak shards to fly out in all directions. He ran into the room to find her restrained to a chair. Screaming. It made him sick, in an entirely literal sense.

"Turn it off!" she begged, "No more, no more! Oh please, let me die, make it stop, make it stop!" Whitney started to convulse, her body shaking as she started screaming again, her back arching, and her head tossed back in agony.

"Hold on, I'll stop it!" he scanned the room for a generator of some sort, when he found it.

In the corner of the room was an electric generator, wired to the chair.

She kept screaming as he yanked the wires out one by one, disconnecting the device. The second he completed the task, her head lolled forward, and she went limp. Horrified, Tony swiftly tore off the wrist restraints, and lifted her into his arms. She was unresponsive. Taking in a deep, unsure breath, he opened the faceplate, and looked at her. He needed to look at her, touch her, see her. Just one last time.

"You, are the bravest young woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, you're my everything," a single tear rolled down his face as he continued to vent, "I was so stupid, and selfish not to let us go public, I'll regret that for the rest of my life. I love you," he pressed his forehead to hers, "I love you so much, you're the most beautiful girl in the entire world. Still. Come back to me, please, I don't know what I'd do with my life if I don't have you in it."

"Tony."

He heard a comforting, beautifully familiar voice call his name. He lifted his head to see her staring back at him, "Thank you," she said simply, her eyes relaying every emotion silently. Love. Shock. Confusion. Gratefulness. All rolled up into a neat, blue-eyed package.

"Whitney!" he embraced her as she slowly moved her still trembling hands around his neck, not bothering to control his own emotions, "I'm going to take you home, and I'm never letting you out of my sight again!" he kissed her bruised cheek, "I love you, I love you so, so much."

"Thank you," her raspy voice said again as he looked into her eyes once more, "You saved me."

"I wouldn't say that."

Tony replaced the faceplate with a grimace, and turned to the source of the voice. Again, Dalton Walsh. Sporting a broken nose this time around.

"You're lucky that I didn't blast you to pieces earlier, now get out of the way before I change my mind." he warned, cautious of putting her down. There was no doubt in his mind that she couldn't stand, not after that, and he wasn't about to let her become a sitting duck.

"I don't think you'd want me to do that."

"Why not? Enlighten me."

"Funny. Maybe this will 'enlighten' you."

The man moved his hands from behind his back to reveal a pistol in one of them, he then pushed the hammer back swiftly with his forefinger, the switch relenting with a light click, and started to point it at him.

"You really think that's going to do anything?" Tony scoffed,

The man smiled before shifting the barrel towards Whitney, "But it will hurt her, won't it?"

"You do realize that I can block the shot, right?"

"Oh, I know that...Tony."

For a split second, everything slowed down as he tried to comprehend what the man said. His name. He knew his name! How, why, what did he do to betray his identity? There was only one road to travel down now,

Deny, deny, more denial, and an extra dose of deny.

"Look, you're crazy. Just get out of the way and-"

"Don't give me that, Stark. I know it's you. Who else would react the way you did when you heard her suffer? Like, now."

Before Tony had time to react, the man's finger was on the trigger...

_And he fired._

* * *

**So, you don't know what's going to happen...no one knows...heck, even I don't know! (Okay, so I do, but I ain't talkin', see!)**


	13. Chapter 13: Fragments

**A/N I hate this chapter. So. Much. You guys are so amazing, and I really don't want to disappoint you all, but here I am, with this awful chapter. But my competition was postponed, and since I have no idea what to do with myself, I re-wrote this chapter in about an hour, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes I might have made in my haste to publish this.**

**Anyway, onward with the story (no matter how horrible it is...)**

* * *

Tony swerved to the side, the bullet barely scraping past Whitney's shoulder instead of hitting her...head.

The man aimed for a head shot! That. Did. It. He wasn't going to play Mr. Nice Guy anymore.

"Very nice, I wasn't expecting a reaction so soon, the odds of avoiding a shot like that are extremely slim. Congratulations are in order, I suppose." The man said with a fascinated tone, examining the gun.

She shivered out of terror, whispering something as she tightened her arms around his neck. He had to put her down; he couldn't deal with this creep while carrying her, but he had to do it discreetly, he wasn't going to give the man another chance to shoot at her. Thinking of a solution, he gently tapped the word "down" on the back of her shoulder-blade, and by the way that she loosened her arms, he thought she understood.

"Alright, no more games. Unless you drop the gun, and surrender, I'll-"

"I've heard all of this before, you're getting boring, Stark, very boring."

Just as he was about to retort, he felt her getting weaker in his arms, he couldn't do this much longer. He could barely hear the sound of her shuddering breaths, the light groans of pain, and the occasional whimpers of what sounded like his name.

"By the looks of things, you don't have much time, do you?"

Crimson liquid trickled off her back onto his hands, and she squirmed in his arms as the bleeding got worse.

"Come on, Whit." he encouraged, slightly backing up.

"I c-can't," she responded, her voice a mere whisper.

"You have to."

"I'm...s-sor-sorry..." blood bubbled into her mouth as her head lolled backwards, her eyes widening, "N-no p-please!"

"What did you do to her?" he shouted at the man as she fell completely limp,

"The injection is wearing off." the man informed, his tone bland as Tony knelt to the floor and set her down.

"No! No, no, no, Tony! Tony!" she cried out for him repeatedly, shivers racking her battered form as she tried to reach out for him, desperately scratching at the concrete.

"She'll stop in a few seconds." Walsh sighed impatiently, and all of his self-control was absorbed just to keep from blasting the monster to tiny, little, three-fourth pieces.

She whimpered one last time, a stray tear leaving her eye just before they both closed.

He petted her hair before shooting up off the ground and aiming at the man.

"You're dead!" he threatened, aiming a repulsor at the man, a mechanical whirr sounding as it charged up.

"I would be more concerned about your girlfriend, even in her dreams she's still tormented." The man said with an emotionless tone,

"You won't get away from here!"

"Neither will she if you don't take her to a hospital. I can assure you, her wounds are worse than they appear."

"I'll kill you for what you did to her!"

"She's already dying, Stark. Finish this up, or she will perish."

"Tony, wh-where are y-you? I'm sc-scared, p-p-please d-don't l-leave me." he heard her frightened voice again,

Frightened. She was frightened. He was going to destroy that creep for scaring her, for hurting her, for taking her away from him, he deserved to die.

"Isn't that sweet." Walsh sneered,

Tony ignored the man, kneeling down beside her, "I'm right here."

A bloody hand slid across the grimed cement to touch his, "H-h-help...m-me...pl-please," tears rolled down her purpled cheeks,

"Hold on, I'm going to get you out of here," he soothed, standing up again, and turning back to Walsh, "I'm not playing this game anymore! Either you surrender, or I will be forced to knock your sorry little self out cold, and take you by force!"

"She's dying. It's either me or her." The man pointed to himself, then to Whitney, looking rather dulled.

"T-Tony," she groaned as her skin grew deathly pale, her eyes glazing over.

Tony knew he didn't have much time, the wounds were going to be fatal, he understood that, but her face, her face turned his heart into a puddle. She was trying to hold it in, the pain, she was trying to keep him from knowing.

"What'll it be, Stark?"

Without a second thought, he turned away from Walsh, shivers eating away at the body on the concrete as he got down beside her. She gazed up at him through scared, pain-filled eyes. He didn't know what to do, he needed to get her to a hospital, but he couldn't just let the man escape. He felt bitter; bitter about this entire situation, he wanted to destroy the person who did this to her, who caused her pain, who blindly tortured her for three flippin' days! Anyone who hurt her, in any way, would immediately earn his animosity. He despised the man, hated him so much he could kill...

Rage overtaking his other emotions, he shot up for the third time, and aimed at the man again,"You're dead, do you hear me? Dead!"

"I would reserve that title for your friend."

"Shut up!" he fired a shot over Walsh's head, "You deserve to die, you freak!"

"D-don't."

At the sound of Whitney's shuddering voice, he felt a wave crash over him, a calm, a peace, yet an ominous prelude of what would eventually lead to a death. Her death. And in response, his emotional death. He would do anything she asked of him, and more, but in this instance, he couldn't back down. At least not yet.

"Don't listen to her, you want to kill me, so do it." Walsh glared down at him,

"N-n-no." she stumbled, her voice sounding strained.

"Come on, Stark. I hurt her."

"That's what you want me to do, isn't it?" he steadily lowered his arm, refocusing his thoughts. Whitney. His top priority was Whitney. No matter what.

"Wonderful deduction," the man rolled his eyes,

Tearing his gaze away from the man, he glanced over at her; she had rolled over to her side, shivering from the frigid air.

"What are you going to do?" Walsh asked mockingly, and he had to curb his desire to blast a hole straight through the creep's stomach. He really was seriously considering completing the action.

All of a sudden, he heard a loud noise, then a wonderfully familiar voice, "He's going to take her to the hospital while I deliver you to the police. Creep."

Rhodey. Thank goodness. But where did he come in? Roof, probably, he couldn't fit through the front door. He wasn't about to debate the suddenness of his friend's arrival, to him, it couldn't have occurred at a much better time.

"Sorry for the delay, traffic." Rhodey apologized, standing right behind the man.

Tony gave a rushed nod to his friend, who took the hint and clutched the man's collar roughly, lifting him off the ground as he kicked and fought, making the man drop the gun, "Come on, fella. You and I are going for a little trip."

Not bothering to watch him leave, Tony quickly knelt beside the shivering form of his girlfriend, and carefully took her in his arms. She coughed, crimson misting her lips as she clung on to his shoulders, her body trembling.

"Whitney," he comforted, "It's okay, we'll get you some help."

"I'm s-s-so t-tired," she wheezed, holding on to him.

Tony gingerly carried her, careful of the sensitive lacerations in her back, and whispered softly to her as he cautiously navigated back through the house. He didn't want to disturb her any more than need be, so he refrained from busting through the roof, or any other barrier. He was fine with using the front door...this time. He swiftly exited the house, and taking one last look at her, he lifted off gently.

"Tony," she groaned, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as he flew through the darkened night sky back to the familiar territory as quickly as he could without scaring her, or aggravating her wounds.

"I'm right here," he answered gently,

"I l-love you...d-don't leave m-me."

"I won't, I promise."

She took a shuddering breath, "It h-hurts."

"I know, sweetie. I know. We're almost there, hold on just a little bit longer."

She hummed in response, nestling her head into the crook of his neck, and breathing sharply. For some unknown, odd reason, he found her closeness comforting, even though she must have been damaged in ways that he did not want to imagine.

It wasn't long afterwards that they arrived at the same emergency hospital they did the first time, with her panic attack. Holding back a wave of emotions, Tony flew into the emergency ambulance center with practiced precision.

"Is anybody available to help her?" he asked as she started to quiver again.

"Whats wrong with her?" A female doctor inquired, "Aside from the obvious," she added after gazing at her back.

"She's been...electrocuted, and I'm thinking a lot more than that." he put her down in a nearby gurney bed, her gentle whimpers for him unsettling his nerves. "Thank you."

The doctor nodded politely while attending to her, and Tony found that he couldn't tear himself away, but gathering his thoughts, he quickly took off again, zooming back towards the armory to take the armor off, and rejoin Whitney at the hospital.

When he arrived there, Pepper and Rhodey were waiting, appearing fidgety, and impatient.

"How is she?" Pepper asked,

"Truth, or sugar coat?" he responded with a gloomy air after he de-suited.

"That bad?" she stared at the plainly seen blood stains,

"Worse."

"The whole flight I wished I could've dropped that creep." Rhodey divulged,

"I know what you mean." Tony mumbled,

"What happened at the house? We lost you for a while." Pepper questioned, still glancing at the darkened red spots.

"Freak blocked the signal somehow."

"Oh. We can...we can talk about it later." she dropped the subject after seeing the distant glaze over Tony's eyes.

"I have...news." he said, staring at the floor.

"What kind?" Pepper asked lightly,

"Depends on how you think of it," he took a deep breath, "Whitney knows." he revealed quickly, wincing and waiting for his friends' reactions.

"Finally." she breathed,

"When did that happen?" Rhodey inquired good-naturedly,

"I don't know how, it just...did. Do you want to go now?" Tony kept his eyes to the floor, engrossed in thought.

Rhodey and Pepper gave nodded replies, and worried glances to each other; they both observed how distant Tony seemed, and the gruesome crimson stains on the armor. They had so many questions for their friend, but now wasn't the time to ask them. Without another word, the trio headed off together, each one of them apprehensive about the hours to come...

* * *

Whitney felt all...weird.

Her leg felt weird, her arms felt weird, her entire body felt weird, but that was okay since nothing felt painful. Earlier, all she had felt was pain. She gathered that she had been asleep for several hours, it made sense, she felt rested. Earlier, it took all the self-control she possessed to keep from giving in, and falling asleep. Then, she knew that if she had slept, she would never wake up again, and that was a truth. She decided to try opening her eyes, just to make sure it wasn't all a dream, and Tony really had saved her.

Tony.

Tony was Iron Man! That, was the surprise of her life. She should've known! How could she have not realized it? How would she even confront him about this? Why didn't he trust her in the first place? And Pepper and Rhodey, were they involved? She had endless questions, and too little strength to ask them. This changed her whole outlook on her bundle of friends, not in a negative way, oh no, that would never happen, but in a positive, proud sort of way. She was extremely proud of them for keeping such an important secret, and she was proud of Tony for being such a brave person. He truly was her knight in shining armor.

Sucking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes to the pleasant daylight streaming in from a nearby window, and her three friends sitting beside her bed, appearing abnormally nervous...and tired. How long had they been sitting there?

"Hi," she croaked, suddenly self-conscious of her voice.

Tony was the first to respond, grabbing her abandoned hand on the blanket and holding it, "How are you?" he asked, caressing her hand attentively.

"Fine," she answered, but it was a lie.

She didn't feel "fine," in fact, she felt horrible. Inside. Because inside, she knew this was just the beginning, she had a long recovery ahead of her, not to mention there was a high possibility of a trial in a few months. Also, a fraction of her mind was terrified beyond her normal attitude, way beyond it. She was afraid of the man, still. Who wouldn't be afraid of someone who tortured you senseless? She didn't like this place either, after all, her whole nightmare started in a hospital, where he nabbed her. But she was safe now, Tony was with her, she was finally safe.

She hoped.

"We missed you a lot." Pepper spoke next, putting on a smile to cheer her up. It worked. Whitney smiled back.

"Especially lover-boy over here, he was a mess." Rhodey joked, making her smile widen.

"Pick on me all you want to, but I admit it, I was a mess." Tony locked eyes with her, and she couldn't but think of that one question nagging at the back of her mind...

"You're...you're-"

He gave an affirming nod, catching on to what she meant to say. She couldn't read his expression, which slightly scared her, she had always been able to determine what he was thinking, but now, she couldn't.

"But why didn't you tell me?"

"He wanted to, but it's too dangerous." Rhodey replied,

"It's a terrible secret to keep, but we had to for your own good." Pepper answered as well,

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't do that to you." Tony was silently seeking forgiveness through his steady gaze.

"It's okay, I understand, but what happens now?" she sunk back on the bed, shifting her gaze between her three friends.

"You don't tell anyone no matter what, and...the rest is up to Tony." Pepper glanced at him,

"Yeah, uh, we'll talk about this once you get better. You've got more important things to worry about." Tony touched her forehead, swiping away the stray strands of hair.

Managing another reassuring smile, she closed her eyes again, still grasping Tony's hand for comfort. Whatever happened next, whatever came her way, she would always have her family.

Her wonderful, supportive two best friends, and the amazing love of her life...

* * *

Tony watched her sleep, anxiously stroking her hair.

He let out a sigh as he combed his fingers through the tangled strands, undoing the small knots absent-mindedly, perfectly content with observing the gentle flutter of her eyelids. He finally had her again, even in this state, she was still here. He wondered why she didn't respond the way he thought she would; reserved, quiet, and nervous, her usual reaction after a terrifying event, and the like, but she seemed...okay...especially for someone who got electrocuted and almost shot in the same night. He surmised that the doctors used an anti-anxiety medication to calm her nerves. He didn't care, he was glad she was able to talk to him. He missed her voice.

The hospital staff let them have a few hours with her, even though they weren't her direct family (for him, at least not yet.) They wouldn't have much time alone with her like this for a few days, since she was scheduled for numerous surgeries, and therapy sessions. When he was informed of this, he learned something interesting: if her parents didn't show, she wanted him to be the one in therapy with her. He didn't mind that either, it was another chance to be supportive of her.

"What happens after this?" Pepper inquired, breaking Tony from his thoughts.

"It all depends, but I think everything is going to be fine." he answered honestly,

"Do you think the creep will get out somehow?" Rhodey questioned,

"I don't know, but if he does, I'm not letting him go so easily."

"You're not going to...kill...him are you?" Pepper whispered,

"I'm thinking about it."

"You can't be serious! No way, man, you aren't going to do that." Rhodey frowned, voicing his concern.

"If he hurts her again-"

"Then we'll take him down together, without hurting anybody."

"I'm part of the team too, you know." Pepper drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair,

"Sorry," the two boys chorused,

"Sure, you say that _now._ Remember that it was my idea for Rhodey to go after you." she pointed a finger at Tony,

"Thank you, Pepper." he said with a tinge of humor,

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're welcome." she waved him off, playing along while Rhodey tentatively rolled his eyes.

With a smile, he went back to watching Whitney, searching for any signs of distress or discomfort. He vowed to himself that he would never let anything happen to her, that he would always be her protector, and through the coming days, weeks, months, and years, he would see to it that she never lived in fear of the one person who was able to get to her. But he was concerned; what if the trial turned out to be a repeat of the past, and he got off unscathed? No, nobody in their right mind would grant him that, not when he abused someone so harshly like he did her, not when they had proof of what that monster was capable of. But what if they weren't in their 'right' minds? What if they did let him go, and he attacked her again? He couldn't let that happen. Tony would make sure that even if the legal system failed, he wouldn't.

But this Walsh person knew about him...

"I have more news," he started, taking in a deep breath as his two friends gathered closer, "The man who kidnapped Whitney. He knows."

"What do you mean 'he knows'?" Rhodey whispered harshly,

"Exactly what I said, this Walsh person knows I'm Iron Man." Tony replied,

"Oh no! What are we going to do? We have to keep him quiet! What if he tells somebody?" Pepper worried,

"Shh! I don't know, but," he released a deep sigh, pressing his hand to Whitney's cheek, "Whitney needs us, I'm more concerned about her."

"I realize that you care about her, but someone _else_ knows now! What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know! At least not yet...Rhodey, you should have seen how abused she was. How heartless he was, all of the bruises. He...electrocuted her, just to see my reaction. She begged to die it hurt her so much. I will never forget the sound of her voice when she cried out for help, the whimpers, that scream of sheer terror. I...I share something with her that I never thought I would ever have. I will do everything I can to protect you two, I swear, but Whitney...what that monster did to her, I wouldn't be surprised if she wakes up in an hour or so scared out of her wits. I don't care if somebody gets to me, but nobody can hurt any one of you. We're a team, right Mandy?"

"Of course." she responded, a slight crack to her voice.

"Teammates look out for each other, and now, Whitney is part of this team too. He'll go after her if he gets out, and she can't take that. We have to make sure that he never sees the light of day again, the legal way, and all the others that creep has hurt deserve justice too. If by any chance they're going to let him go, we can't let that happen."

"So, what do you think we should do?" Rhodey asked,

"They're not going to start the trial for a while, so I think we have enough time to get ready for it. To get Whitney ready for it."

"What then? Do we gather evidence or something? I don't think they'll take evidence from us, or you." Pepper pointed out,

"I know, that's where I'm stuck." Tony revealed,

"Let's not worry about it." Rhodey placed his head in his hand,

"Okay, I have to agree only because I want to crush that...that-" Pepper searched for a word,

"We'll stick with 'the creep' for now. All the other names we can use I'm sure Whitney wouldn't like 'em." Tony cracked a weak smile,

He had no idea what was going to happen, he didn't know how everything would play out in the end, but he had to make sure his friends would be alright, that Whitney made a full recovery, that the man never hurt her again. But what he didn't realize, was that there were some things...some things that couldn't be anticipated. That could never be thought of, could never be plotted against, and Walsh knew those things better than anyone.

Maximum security prisons were not as safe as Tony thought...

* * *

Dalton punched the wall in his cell out of malice.

It barely stung.

He needed to release his anger on something more, something...perishable, but he couldn't abolish his frustration in here! There was nothing, just a shabby, old prison cell, high security. At least they thought him dangerous enough to warrant a maximum security prison. Quite an accomplishment for him, not that he couldn't find a way out, he always could.

He wished that wall was her, that little brat put him in here. He would get out, he would find her, and make that other one watch as he caused her pain. Severe pain. Those two always seemed to get away from him, always, always, always! It wasn't fair! But now that he knew the other one's secret, it would be much easier to get one -or both- of them to comply with any demands he could think of. He couldn't think of any through his frustration, and he probably would never, he wasn't the type. He was more of the...consulting...type. Interesting profession, he'd have to delve deeper into that later on, perhaps when he got bored again. He got bored much too often for his liking.

He quickly decided that he wanted her, that was it, her. She kept him from getting bored, he hated it when he got bored. Plus, he wasn't quite finished with her yet, he now realized that. He was so close to shattering her for life, but he only made a large crack, not a shatter. He wanted her to break into tiny pieces, but he hadn't achieved that. His job wasn't done yet, and he had to finish it.

He never left a job unfinished...

* * *

**A/N The ending is horrible, this whole chapter is horrible, and I'm so, so, _so_ sorry. Everything will return to normal next time, promise. **

**Moving on from my mindless ranting, how do you all like the new title, and summary? Those things are always works in progress for me, I can never come up with a title right away for some reason. But I digress...**


	14. Chapter 14: Losing Herself (Part 1)

**A/N I'm back! I'm very sorry that I took so long, but I got sick last week, and this week I've been doing schoolwork nonstop. But, good news, I go on Christmas break the week after next, so I'm free to write! I also broke this chapter up into two parts because it was ridiculously long, like over 20,000 words! Can you believe it? Oh, and one more thing, I also deleted some scenes, and description to make it shorter. I hope it's not confusing! But, if you want to know what happens in those scenes, you can PM me, and I'll give you a summary. **

**But anyway, on with this incredibly long, and confusing story!**

* * *

Dalton knew exactly how to cause them pain.

She, the girl, she hated threats. Threats against her friends. He could mess with her mind too, he did that while he had her, he made her believe anything, and everything he told her. Although she was a rather strange thing, extremely complex, she was a very fun toy. Very, very fun.

The other one, the boy, he didn't have the knowledge he possessed about her, but one thing Dalton did know, was that he was the protective sort, liked to keep his friends close, especially her. How cute. Dalton could break her, then kill her, all in front of him for added effect. He loved executions, his victim blindfolded as he pulled the trigger. So exciting. He could do that. Or, he could dispose of them both! That would be _so_ much fun, and it would keep him from getting bored.

He would do anything to keep himself from the monotony of boredom.

Speaking of boredom; it was absolutely _boring_ here in this cell, the rest of the inmates were complete fools, murderers who were too idiotic, and got caught because of their stupidity. Unlike him, he planned everything carefully. They didn't catch him, he caught them, he wanted to be caught. She needed to have her experiences sink in, then he would escape, and carry out the remainder of his plans.

Having both of them would be much more exciting...

Desiree gazed at her daughter, wondering about her mirror copy.

It was true, they looked very much alike, but she knew nothing about her. She knew nothing about her except for the usual tidbits from the American media; her daughter was a very...kind girl from what she saw, always smiling. Desiree frequently searched for information on her; what she was doing, how old she was, and what she looked like, but all those things didn't reveal what she was like.

"What is she like?" she asked her former husband,

"She's, shy." he answered simply, obviously trying to avoid verbal contact.

She ignored it, and kept asking anyway, "More than that. What are her hobbies, interests, what does she do when she thinks no one is looking? Tell me everything about her."

"She likes books, that sort of thing...and she still bumps into furniture."

She smiled, remembering the tiny three year old who ran into end tables, "is she a lot like you?"

"More or less."

"Interesting."

She held her daughter's hand, feeling the pulse-just for reassurance-, and watched her chest slowly rise and fall. Maybe, after this, she could talk with her, get to know her, be her mother. Actually be something for once in her life. She didn't want to give it up, her life, but it was all so over-whelming; her husband's new job, a daughter, the move, all the people-it was just too much for her to handle.

But she wanted to.

She loved that little girl since the day she first held her, that little baby. Ever since she gazed into those delicate eyes, she loved her. Desiree made too many mistakes in her life, but this would be the last.

Taking a glance towards the entrance, she noticed the doctor stride through. A Dr. Abbott, if she remembered correctly.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, a light smile gracing his wrinkled features.

"Oh, hello. Do you need anything else?" Desiree inquired,

"Well, no. Not exactly." he answered,

"Is anything wrong?"

"I need you to understand something, there were deep...marks, on her back."

"Oh my God."

"I," he sighed, "there will be scars, no doubt about it, but if she takes care of her skin, I'm sure there won't be many."

She glanced at the peacefully dreaming girl; what had she gone through?

"It, it gets worse."

"How much worse?"

"This will be very hard to hear. Your daughter was possibly electrocuted."

There was a horrified expression on both the parents faces; they were stunned that somebody could do such terrible things to their baby girl. Neither of them spoke, moved, or even breathed as the air seemed to grow thicker around them; thoughts buried themselves deep in their minds of what this person might have done to her. The sweet, imaginative child laying in the bed next to them was possibly subjected to horrors not even worried parents could conjure up. But why was their daughter the one who went through this? Why did this sadistic person single her out? She had never hurt anyone, nor had she done anything to will such unspeakable tragedy on herself.

Unless, they were unaware of something...

Thankfully, her husband broke the silence as her imagination took hold, "How do you know all of this?" he inquired,

"There were electric burns on her wrists, back, and legs."

"My poor baby, I'm so sorry," she stroked her daughter's hair, lightly kissing her forehead.

"But she's perfectly stable, there's no need to be concerned. What I do need from you, is consent to provide her with anti-depressants."

"Of course," she turned to her husband, waiting for his response.

"Does it risk her health in any way?" he inquired,

"No. It's just until we start the full therapy sessions, and get her out of this gloomy place."

"Fine."

"Thank you, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Let her friends visit often, they cheer her up, and she needs a lot of that. Laughter is the best medicine, you know."

"We'll do that, thank you." Desiree said, keeping her hand on her little girl's.

Abbott gave them a polite smile, and exited the room, leaving the two parents alone to discuss their daughter's future, and their own.

"Is it, alright, with you if I...stay, for a while?"

"Of course...it is, in her best interest, after all, she needs a mother."

There was a noticeable pause before Desiree spoke again, "I'm sorry, I left."

"I know."

"I shouldn't have, said, all those horrible things."

"I'll take some of the blame as well."

"And, I...would like to, try, again. Even if we, remain, friends."

"That...that would be nice, thank you."

And for the first time in over nine years, Desiree placed her hand on top of his, and held it as they sat by their slumbering child.

"She has your stutter too."

"Poor thing. Still?"

"Still."

A gentle smile paved its way across her features; the poor thing probably never knew where she got it from either...

_Whitney searched the strange territory._

_Where was she? The sky was turning dark, and scary; and all the trees were growing bigger, and bigger until they were looming over her. A malicious laugh echoed through the woods, and she frantically ran away, coming to a glass wall. Four glass walls. She ran inside a box!_

_"Help!" she pounded on the glass, "is anybody out there?"_

_She peeked behind her, and there he was, inside the opaque container with her._

_"No! Please, somebody, don't let him hurt me!" she scratched the glass, annoying squeaks sounding throughout the transparent cage from her skin rubbing against the smooth surface._

_The man gripped her arms, stopping her desperate clawing, and pulled them behind her back, "Happy to see me?"_

_"Let go of me, let go!" she kicked at his legs, but to no avail._

_"You can't run away from me, you can't get away, you can't. I'll always be here, haunting you, destroying you, making your pitiful life miserable for the rest of your days, and there is nothing you can do about it! You will never get away..."_

The dream ceased, and she shot up in the bed, tears dripping from her eyes, making their way down her cheeks.

Tony immediately encircled her with warm, soothing arms, holding her close, and comforting her as she sobbed into his shoulder, bunching the red fabric of his shirt in her fists, trying to keep him there. To keep him close to her.

"It was so horrible."

"You're okay now, I've got you."

They remained like that for over an hour, grasping on to each other as if they were to somehow let go, the universe would collapse. Since the galaxy wasn't about to go supernova on their watch, they held one another as tightly as they could, nestling into the other until their bodies were pressed together. She longed for his touch, and she received more than that, she gained this incredible embrace.

There were no words to describe the pure emotions that surged through her heart; wanting him, needing him. She couldn't go back, she couldn't stop, she was all the way in now, and there was no turning around. This love she had for him was full on, relentless, unyielding, almost painful in its intensity. If this was her's, if this was how it was meant to be, if she was destined for this role in his life, then she would happily give in to the flow of fate, because it couldn't have picked a more wonderful person for her soul mate.

After a while, when she couldn't hold on to him any longer, she let go, (risking the termination of the stars), "What are you doing here?"

"You needed someone to stay with you. Your, parents had to sign some papers, so...I, uh, took their place. "

"But you're supposed to be at school."

"Yeah, well, you're more important. Besides, it's over for the day."

"I slept that long?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Geez, what do they have me on anyway?"

"Morphine, and...some kind of suppressant that I can't pronounce."

She started to laugh, but then squeezed her eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Okay, ow, don't make me laugh, it makes my head spin."

He winced slightly at her discomfort, "Sorry, I thought it might make you feel better."

"It's okay, you didn't know," she put on a smile, and he joined in just as Pepper and Rhodey walked back in the room.

"They're still in there," Rhodey informed,

"Yeah, what are they talking about anyway? Unless it's all paperwork, in that case, I feel sorry for them. It's kind of like homework, you really don't want to do it, but you have to. It's like a code or something." Pepper rambled, then looked at her as if she remembered something, snapping her fingers before she spoke, "Tony has your book, the one you lost at my house. He kept it under his pillow."

Whitney looked at him, "You kept my book under your pillow?"

A small flush took over Tony's face as he chuckled nervously, stretching his collar, "Um, maybe? Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?" he glanced at his two nonchalant looking best friends, searching for assistance. When he didn't receive any, he turned back to her, facing a curious pair of eyes.

"It's just you."

"Oh. I, uh...here," he handed the book over to her quickly,

"Thank you," she set the book in her lap, "so, how was school today?" she asked, in the hopes of starting a pleasant conversation.

"Typical," Tony answered first, clasping her hand.

"I thought you might say that. How 'bout you two?"

"I don't know, I never really thought about it. Oh yeah, and Happy says that he hopes you get better soon." Pepper responded,

She smiled as she spoke again, "Thank him for me, will you?"

"Sure."

"I have homework, don't I?"

"Just a little bit."

Seeing this as an opportunity to stay with Tony for a few more precious minutes, she asked him, "Maybe you could help me with it?"

"No problem," he answered with a smile,

"Okay, we'll, leave you to it." Rhodey tugged on Pepper's arm, signaling for them to hightail it out of there.

"Right. Well, goodbye, then." Pepper said as she dropped the bundle of papers on the bed, hurrying along the floor to the exit, "go, go, go," she urged as they shuffled swiftly out the door.

The couple locked eyes as their friends left, not noticing the door gently shut.

"I missed you," he confessed, running his fingers through her badly matted hair, removing the tangles.

"I missed you too," she pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, "Tony, did you mean it, wh-when you said I was brave?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think so," he slid on top of the bed, and wrapped his arms around her as she leaned into him.

"I'm not as brave as you. Darling, you don't know this, but you...you inspire me. Move me. I don't know how to say it, but I admire you so much. It feels weird to-what are you doing?" she squeaked as he started to kiss down her neck,

"Loving you," he mumbled against her skin, the vibrations sending shock waves down her spine.

"Right here? Tony, what if-"

He stopped his gentle pecks to gaze in her eyes, "I don't care, Whitney, I don't! I love you, and I'm not hiding it anymore."

"But, but, but," she found it impossible to say anything at all as he resumed placing his lips on her neck, and cheek, squeezing her tightly, "oh darling, just...just make sure that, you...tell my dad last, okay?"

She let him wrap his arms around her stomach, and coax her into his lap, still carefully nipping at her throat. She had never seen him this...passionate. Of course, there were times when their kisses could get a little, heated. And by no means inappropriate, mind you. But he had never kissed her neck like that before, or at all. She quickly decided that she liked it; he was so gentle, and his lips felt so soft against her skin.

"I haven't kissed you in so long," he muttered, "I forgot how good it felt."

"Uh-huh," she nodded, sinking back against his chest, and closing her eyes, centering in on the wonderful sensation of having him close to her again.

All of a sudden, the door opened, and Pepper and Rhodey stood in the middle of the doorway.

Upon seeing the pair, the two friends jumped, "Sorry, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, really, I just...we'll be going now." Pepper bumped into Rhodey before they both scrambled to shut the door.

"Well, that killed the mood." Tony grumbled, releasing his hold around her, and she climbed back down, giving him a tender hug.

"We've got homework anyway," she reached over, and grabbed the papers, scanning over them with distaste, "I'm going to need some help with this one."

"Which one?"

She pointed to a particularly confusing problem, and he began explaining it to her. Out of habit, she leaned against him as they worked the equation out together, as a couple.

Always...always...always...together.

Frustration seemed to be a reoccurring emotion for Tony these days.

He had finished helping Whitney with her homework, and now she was keeping him on-track with his, or she was attempting to.

He was as frustrated as all get out when he finally burst, and expressed his disdain for the mindless problems, "These questions are stupid. How do they-"

Whitney kissed him on the cheek to interrupt him, "You have to do it."

"But this," he gestured to the page, "is just pointless."

"How about, I give you a kiss if you finish?"

"Works for me."

He was finished in less than fifteen minutes.

She kept her promise.

They sat facing each other on the bed; that kiss, that chaste, beautiful kiss, reminded him of everything she loved about her. From all those endearing habits, oddities, and dimmed-down-from-love flaws, he adored every last bit of her. Including every silent moment, every tender glance, loving touch, or gentle kiss they ever shared. He felt a deep initiative to touch her, and leaned in to brush his lips against her's, pressing on them lightly, like a feather, before returning to his original position.

It was in moments of sweet silence such as this that he took the time to put her in his memory, to memorize every square inch of her delicate features until she was rooted into his brain like his armor specs. He wanted to recall everything about her; her hair, her nose, her skin, her eyes. Most definitely her eyes.

Until she interrupted his memorizing with that velvety voice, "Tony, how do you feel about me?"

He was taken aback; he thought he made how he felt clear. Why was she asking him this?

"How do I feel about you?" he took both of her hands in his, "you've given me something that I thought I was going to live without. You love me for who I am, you accept my faults, you put up with me, and you're the sweetest girl in the whole world. I'm...I'm yours, for now, and forever. I love you, Whitney."

Tears welled in her eyes as she embraced him, "I needed you to say that."

Reluctantly, he lightly pushed back, "You need to rest."

"Okay. Can you stay here with me?" she inquired as he pulled back the blanket, and she crawled inside.

He gently lifted the sheets, and placed them over her, kissing her forehead before delivering an answer, "Of course I will. Do you mind if I get something to eat from downstairs?" she gave him a nod, and a smile as he squeezed her hand, "I'll be right back."

He glanced at her before exiting the room, leaving the door open, just in case.

"Our turn?" Rhodey asked from his seat by the wall,

"Yeah, I'll be the lobby if you need me," he paused, "and hopefully you won't."

"Hey, what were you two doing in there all this time? It's been over an hour, I thought you fell asleep." Pepper questioned, getting up to enter the room.

"Homework?" his friends gave him a look, "Okay, okay, so there was a teeny bit of kissing going on, but it didn't last very long."

"Sorry, about that." Rhodey shuffled his feet,

"We have a knack for walking in at the wrong times, don't we?" Pepper mentioned nervously,

"Way too often."

"Way too often," he repeated, a joking tone to his voice.

He waited until his friends entered the room, and then he started downstairs to the cafeteria for a little something to occupy his growling stomach. You tend to forget all about food when someone you love is in the hospital, and that was exactly what happened with Tony. He hadn't eaten at all in the past week, too occupied with his thoughts of her to entertain the other thought of sustenance. After satisfying his hunger with a sandwich, he traveled back up to the third floor by elevator, and he was instantly greeted by Rhodey and Pepper.

"You have to come and see this," Pepper grabbed his wrist, and led him into the hospital room.

"Yeah, there are tons of little kids running around in there," Rhodey remarked,

And sure enough, there were, about seven of them in total, but they were moving too quickly, he couldn't count them all accurately. Seven was a decent number anyways.

He heard Whitney's laugh, "I'm sure it won't be stuck in there for long."

"But it hurts," he heard a boy say,

"It's almost ready, maybe if you keep wiggling it, it'll decide to pop right on out, and you can keep it."

"What happened here?" Tony glanced around at the bunch of children invading the room. Not that he didn't mind them.

"Hi, Tony! Guess who decided to stop by?"

"Uh, a kindergarten?"

"No, my class! Aren't they adorable?"

He smiled at the sight of his girlfriend looking so happy, visibly glowing, as she watched the children scramble around her as she sat in a chair...a chair...she wasn't supposed to be out of bed! But, in this case, there could be an exception, she just looked so happy.

"Look what I got!" A little girl exclaimed, jumping up and down in front of her.

"What?"

"Mommy gave me a ball for getting a good report card, and look!" she dropped the red sphere, and it bounced back up into her tiny hands, "it bounces!"

"Cool! But you have to be careful with it in here, they've got tons of really breakable stuff, and they get pretty mad if you break it."

"Okay, I won't bounce it anymore."

"There we go."

She motioned him over with her hand, and he followed, curiosity taking over.

"Okay now, that's Dorothy, and Matthew, they're siblings," she began pointing to different children, telling him their names, "and that's Elijah, he loves to draw doodles and things, you really have to keep an eye on him or else he starts chewing on his pencil. And that one over there is Hannah, she's a bit wild, but only if you leave her alone for too long. Little kids, you know? And where is he...oh, and over there is Dennis. He's the normal one compared to the rest of them."

"You really like these kids, don't you?" he settled a tender hand on her shoulder,

"Of course! That's Casey, she tends to run away into the corner when it gets too loud. Likes the quiet. And over there are Peter and Adam, best of friends."

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I know, but I wanted to watch them. I didn't want them to think I was sick, then they wouldn't play. It's strange when they don't."

"Okay, but don't blame me when the doctor comes in here and sees you in this chair."

"Oh yeah, and guess what?"

"What?"

Whitney reached under the bed pillow, returning with a necklace in her hand, "It turns out that he had it all along. He gave it back to me this morning. Would you, put it on for me? I want to wear it."

Tony tried to contain a wide smile as he clasped the locket around her neck, "Even in front of your parents?"

"Especially in front if them. I think, that it's time we stopped being so cautious, and let people know how we feel about each other. Unless you don't want to."

"I think we just told your class."

They both glanced around at the staring children, and their two friends.

"I think we did."

As soon as their eyes met the individual children's, they looked away, becoming occupied with the floor, walls, or ceiling, so did their friends.

"Who knew hospitals had such interesting floors," she joked, her voice wavering near the end of her sentence.

"Alright, that's enough moving out of you." he helped her out of the chair, much to her protest, and steadied her as she laid back on the bed.

"I'm fine, really!" she insisted as he covered her with the blankets, and handed her the book.

"Then why is your voice giving out?"

"Because...I don't know."

"Exactly. Gotcha there, didn't I?"

All of the children slowly approached her, crowding around the bed with widened eyes.

"Are you sick?" One of the girls, Hannah, asked.

"I'll be better by tomorrow," her voice had become raspy, and weak. He hated watching her try to act like nothing was wrong, she was still hurt, and she needed to rest.

He knew better than anyone that recovery took time...

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Can we come over tomorrow too?" Elijah inquired,

"Of course you can, I'll be right here waiting for you."

He stepped back as each of the kids gave her a hug, and he observed the way her eyes drooped slightly, slumber wishing to take over.

"Let's go find Mrs. Garner, come on you guys, be very, very quiet." Pepper whispered as she rounded up the gang,

"Are we supposed to be ninjas now?" Peter trotted along the group,

"Oh, right, the ninjas. Be quiet so you don't wake up the samurai, shh, out the door."

The children immediately quieted, tiptoeing out of the room.

"Ninjas?" Rhodey asked, keeping his voice in a light whisper.

"It's something we do to, keep them quiet when we, walk through the church. They can be ninjas, ghosts, mice, anything quiet. And if they make...any noise, then the...samurai get them. It really...works." Whitney's eyelids fluttered, finally closing as Tony stroked her forehead, pushing away the stray strands of hair.

It doesn't take much, Tony smiled to himself, you really are something else.

The door opened again, "How many times do you have to sign a-oh, hello there. You must be Whitney's friends." her mother appeared in the doorway, appearing surprised.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of her mother's voice, "Mom?"

"Darn it," Tony cursed under his breath. He finally got her to settle down, and now this happens.

"I guess this means we're relieved." Rhodey muttered,

"Bye," he squeezed her hand as she gazed at him, obviously wanting him to stay.

"Thank you for staying with her," the mother said as they both walked out.

The door shut behind them, and Tony suddenly felt lost.

"What just happened there?" Pepper questioned, returning from delivering the bunch.

"Her mother," he informed with a certain distaste.

"So, do we just sit here, or go on home?" Rhodey asked his friends,

"I don't know, but I really don't want to leave, yet."

"Then it's settled," Pepper sat down in a chair on the wall, "we'll sit here until it's time to go home..."

After a week of minor operations, and therapy sessions, Whitney was allowed to return home, but she all she wanted to do was stay beside Tony. Without him around her, she felt scared, empty, and broken. She despised her weakness, but it couldn't be helped, at least, not at the moment. She was with him now, cuddling with him on the couch.

"You aren't worried that Mrs. Rhodes might see us?" she asked as he inched closer to her lips,

"Don't worry about that, I told her."

"Really?"

"What I didn't tell her was how long."

"That doesn't matter."

The second those words left her mouth, he pressed their lips together, and they moved in perfect synchronization as she ran her fingers through his hair, and he tightened his hold around her. He must have missed her tremendously, because he gradually tilted her on the couch, pushing her back onto the cushions. Strangely, she didn't mind it. Under normal circumstances, she would have scolded him, and that would be the end of it, but...these weren't normal circumstances. He gently pecked her cheek, slowly making his way down her neck. In response, she snaked her arms around his back, wrapping them around him as he kissed her lips tenderly.

Maybe they were going a bit too far.

Having him this close to her felt wonderful, but, there were certain boundaries they were crossing that she was uncomfortable with. Tony kissing her was one thing, him kissing her while they were alone was another. And having him kiss her neck was an extreme boundary that she had accepted earlier only because she missed him, not that she didn't enjoy it, but because of certain rules she had promised to adhere to. Rules created by herself. The ultimate boundary she hoped to never cross was, well, also crossed. He was laying on top of her, kissing her. They had discussed this before, things they wouldn't do, and this was one of them.

They were going too far.

"Tony?" she tapped on his back as he began kissing down her neck again, "Tony...darling...sweetheart...Anthony." A small sigh escaped her lips, he wasn't listening to her, time for the big guns.

He asked for it...

"Anthony Edward Stark!" she shouted, catching his attention instantly. The full name, middle and all, was used only in times of extreme lectures, like when he had done something really, really bad. It wasn't that she didn't like it, goodness no, but being alone, and in a place where they could easily...do something...she had to be extremely cautious as to not let her emotions take over.

And boy, were they taking over!

Tony was completely startled; he was just concentrating on the softness of her skin, how much he missed her, and how good it felt to have her in his arms again. He was so shaken by the abrupt scolding that he jumped off of her, falling to the floor below, and landing with a thump.

"There now," she sat up, and glanced around, Tony was nowhere in sight. "Where'd you go?"

She was answered with a groaned "ow."

Curious, she peeked at the floor, and there he was, rubbing his head.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, sliding down, and examining his head, "I'm so sorry!" she kissed his forehead, "are you alright?"

"Fine. Just...fine."

"I didn't mean it, really, I just thought we were taking it too far, and I didn't want to get carried away, because honestly I miss you so much, and you make me feel so happy, and I didn't want to do anything we might regret later on, I'm not saying that I will regret it if we get married, but not right now because we're obviously not married, but I would like to, I mean get married, I've been thinking a lot about it, but if you don't want to talk about it then that's perfectly fine, aaaand I'm starting to sound like Pepper."

"That was very interesting, actually. Very interesting."

"But I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it, I just didn't want to get too far along then have to stop because I don't think I could, and I don't want to let you down because you're a boy, and boys have more trouble than girls do, so I felt like I needed to be responsible about it, but I didn't mean for you to hit your head, that was an accident, and I really didn't want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you, but sometimes I do accidentally 'cause I don't know what I'm thinking, and I'm really sorry about all of that too, I don't like it when we fight, but I know it's a good thing because when we get married, I-I-I mean if we get married, then we know how to handle those...things...why are you staring at me like that?"

"You have pretty eyes."

"O-oh. You have pretty eyes too. I mean handsome because boys aren't pretty, girls are, and that would just be weird because they're two separate words, but what I mean is that your eyes are nice too, I like them a lot, and I think they're the best thing about you, besides your personality of course, but you already know about that since-" she was finally interrupted by a pair of warm, chapped lips, and oddly enough, she welcomed the sweet kiss.

"You really are something, you know that?" Tony said after he pulled away, playing with strands of now fully combed hair, and she tilted her head to lean into his gentle touch, her cheek resting against his hand.

"How do I know that's not an insult?" Whitney said humorously, hoping to engage in some sort of friendly banter with him, and regain confidence lost in her earlier rambles.

"Because I said it."

Her playfulness ceased at his all-too-serious tone. He was telling her something...

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," he put his arms around her, and pulled her in close, "I promise to never say anything bad to you again. I'll never raise my voice to you, or yell, or call you bad things, and starting right now, I'm going to start living that promise."

"That's so sweet of you."

"You deserve it."

Tears welled up in her eyes at her love's words, "You are incredible."

"So're you."

"Stop it, you're going to make me cry!"

"I'll never make you cry either."

That last sentence broke the dam; tears made their way down her cheeks as she threw her arms around him, "You make me so happy. I love you."

"I love you too, Whit." he wrapped his arms around her, and instantly, that moment became another precious, irreplaceable memory that she hoped would never go away.

Was it even possible to love someone so unconditionally like she did him? Even if he committed every evil known to man, she would still love him. She might not be proud of him, but she would love him. How did her life end up here? It shouldn't have been possible for her, of all people, to gain the most perfect man in the world's love. The thought was seldom entertained in her mind before, she never thought it possible, but here she was, being held by the boy she admired, loved, and could only dream of. Love...love was a powerful word in her vocabulary; she did not use it mildly. Every time she said that word, she meant every letter, and syllable.

But the word love wasn't strong enough to describe her affections.

She adored him.

He started to caress her hair, petting it gently as she nestled into him, each savoring the moment. It had been so long, too long, much too long. A week, and four days without the other crushed them, they couldn't live if they had nothing of their better halves. It was surprising how two teenagers could overcome such drastic boundaries in their lives, and find each other like this, love each other like they did. But, they overcame their adversity, past and present, and discoved a blooming romance that would never wilt. And in that minute, a single minute, they felt something in their hearts that had never been there before.

Belonging.

Tony wasn't afraid to hold her hand anymore.

Who cares if anyone saw them? He couldn't care less; he wanted people to see how much he loved her, how she gave him something he never knew he could possess, how she gave him a sense of belonging. They belonged to each other. It was so...incredible, to feel like that, like nothing could ever bring him down. Clould Nine was in sight, and he was climbing higher and higher. Now, he could finally walk the girl he loved home; he had the strength, and courage to do so. The past week...affected him, in both a good and bad way, and brought new insight to the world around him. It seemed, darker, perhaps, but it held a sense of light as well. She was his shining star, dissolving the darkness, and guiding him back into the light.

Who would've known that in those years before, playing with the little girl who had ribbons in her hair, that he'd be walking her home, holding her hand? He sure didn't. He always saw her then as the only girl who ever understood him, he was fond of her, but he never thought about being with her. Forever. It occupied his entire thought process sometimes, the whole enternity factor. He knew he loved her, but was he the right person for her? He wanted her to be happy for the rest of her life, and he still wasn't sure if he was the correct person to make her happy. He wanted to; he wanted to be the one to care for her, but was he mature enough to accomplish that?

"What are you thinking about?" Whitney broke through his thoughts with a squeeze of his hand, and light, careful words.

"I was thinking about you and me."

He wasn't sure if he responded right; her expression was blank, and her eyes ureadable. But she soon replied, "Was it anything bad?"

"No, I just...I just don't know if...if I can love you, the way you need me to."

"You're doing that already! Don't worry about it, just be yourself, and I'll love you from here to...the end of the rainbow."

"End of the rainbow, huh?"

"Yep, and I'll even race you there."

"You're not supposed to run!" he shouted after her as she took off,

She glanced behind her, and laughed, "Are you afraid I'm going to beat you?"

He couldn't stop the wide grin from appearing on his face as he ran behind her, trying to catch up.

He eventually did.

"Ha, I got you!" he wrapped his arms around her stomach, lifted her up, and spun her around, acting like they were seven again. She didn't stop laughing throughout the entire display, and he loved every second of it. They were right at the location of her house, although they were completely unaware of it, too caught up in the joy of being with each other to notice.

"I got here first!" she protested, a playful tone shining through her voice.

"Yeah, but I've got you!" he held her in the air with her hands around his neck,

"We're idiots, aren't we?" she smiled down at him,

"Maybe. But we're nice idiots." That comment made her laugh again, and he felt like flying. Metaphorically.

"Tony?"

"Uh-huh."

"You can put me down now."

"Oh, right, sorry. Forgot about that." he gently set her down, but she kept her arms around him.

"Maybe you could, have dinner with me, and Mom...and Dad. To show them how we feel about each other. No pressure, or anything."

"Whitney, I would love to, if-"

"If my Dad wasn't a complete jerk, yeah, I know."

"But-"

"But you would love to if things were different."

"I don't want to fight with you."

"Me neither, but...I just...you have to understand why I ask these things. I want them to know how much you mean to me, and sure, it'll be awkward. More than awkward. But I want them to know you, and how special you are. I may not have the best father in the world, and I know how things are, but he's not as bad as you think he is."

"When are you going to-okay, starting over. You have no idea what your dad's done to me, I can't just waltz in there and expect everything to be perfectly fine. He's hurt you too, I can't accept that either. He's evil, Whitney."

"He's not evil, he's just confused."

"Confused about what? Destroying people's lives? Making weapons? He's ruining my dad's company, and everything he worked for!" Tony forgot his promise as the memories of his father stormed through his mind.

He had already lost so much, and if Stane took her away from him as well, he couldn't be able to fight any longer. She was the fire behind him, pushing him to his limits every time he faced down a villain, either as Iron Man, or Tony Stark. He always thought of her as he battled it out with whomever he was dueling with; she gave him renewed strength, and stability if he was on the losing side. He thought about what would happen if he did end up losing, and the criminal would run free. Would they attack her? Would they hurt her? He had to protect her, and the city she lived in. He couldn't let anyone destroy her, and what they shared. It was too precious to him.

He's taking you away from me!" he lost control of his emotions, "he'll take you away from me, and leave me with nothing! I can't lose you. I did last week, and I can't do it again. I'm sorry."

She gently ran her hand through his hair, "I came back didn't I? We're here, and I love you, more than ever. That's never going to happen, darling," she repeated the voice from long ago, "you could never lose me."

Getting lost in each other was a common occurence for them, and in their usual "kiss and make-up" fashion, Tony leaned in to press their lips together. She rested her hands near his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist, tilting his head to deepen the kiss...

Blissfully unaware of the person watching them from the window.

* * *

**I really hope I cut it off okay, that always worries me...**

**Like I said before, you can PM me, and I'll tell you what happens in the deleted scenes. I had one each for both Pepper, and Rhodey, one for Roberta, and one more for Walsh, and Whitney. Just in case you wanted a specific one. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! You have made my day!**


	15. Chapter 15: Losing Herself (Part 2)

**A/N Hello all! So, I'm back a little bit early, and I hope you don't mind. I tried to cut as much as I could from this chapter, but, the novelist inside of me just didn't want to let go. It likes length. One more thing, my editor couldn't look over this chapter with her amazingly critical eye, (it was four in the morning,) so if you notice any mistakes...blame her. She gets really mad when you wake her up at night. Kidding, she's awesome!**

** Okay, moving on now...**

* * *

Daughters and their secrets!

How could his little girl keep something like this from him? She was...kissing...a boy, and not just any boy, she was kissing Tony Stark. Why? What was that display he saw earlier? Were they playing, or was there something else involved? Whatever the reason, he did not appreciate it, this was not something to keep from a father! His daughter had never mentioned anything to him about a boyfriend, let alone kissing anyone. This was important! He should have been made aware that she had experienced something like that before, they obviously had.

Thankfully, they stopped, and began talking. What he was about to do could be considered eavesdropping, but, interesting times call for interesting measures. He lifted the glass to listen in on their conversation, entirely intrigued.

_"I'm sorry I yelled at you, I know I broke my promise."_

_"It's fine, don't worry about it."_

_"Can you forgive me?"_

_"Of course I can, I'll always forgive you."_

They were holding hands now, standing in front of each other, looking into the other's eyes. He remembered having that same look in his own eyes once, the same look that now occupied his daughter's eyes. He wished it would go away.

"Thank you. I don't know what happened, I started thinking about my dad, and how, and how you gave me hope. You're...you're the best thing that's happened to me, Whitney, and I know I can be a little, possessive, sometimes, and that's not really okay. I'll...I'll work on that."

_"You're definitely not possessive. Just, cautious and protective, I completely understand."_

_"You always do. May I escort you to the door?"_

_"Hmm, yes, you may."_

An invisible stick prodded at his heart as he watched her take his arm, and walk up the steps in sync, gazing into each other's eyes, and smiling. More like beaming, actually.

_"We have so much fun together!"_ he couldn't see her, but he could place that laugh anywhere.

_"I'm glad I could make you happy."_ he could also place that voice, though, he wished he didn't have to.

_"I'm glad you walked me home."_

_"And we'll be standing here all day if I don't leave now."_

_"What's so wrong with that?"_

_"Goodbye, Whitney."_

_"I'll call you later on."_

_"Sounds good, bye!"_

_"Bye!"_

A light giggle echoed through the hallways as the door creaked closed. He had to talk to her about this, civilly, he had to keep his temper level. After he closed the window, he turned around to see her humming as she walked past, still not noticing him as she skipped up the stairwell.

He cleared his throat, gaining her attention, and she spun around."Hi, Daddy!" she greeted, trotting up to him, and giving him a warm hug, "I didn't think you'd be home so early!"

"We need to talk." he used a particularly strong, commanding voice.

"What are we going to talk about?" she followed him into the living room without question, or hesitation.

"Sit down," he gestured to the couch, and she sat down, smoothing her skirt, and shifting her legs to the side.

She was a young woman already. He had to hold back a wave of emotions as he looked at the girl before him; she was once a tiny, holding baby, small enough to fit in a laundry basket, and now, she was an elegant young lady, ready to take on the world. How many beautiful years had he missed? Had he wasted all this time on trifle, fleeting things when he could have spent time with her?

She was foreign to him, he knew nothing other then what was present on the surface. He wanted to know more about his only child, like what Desiree wanted to know. He felt ashamed at how he couldn't reply with more information about his own child, and starting in that moment, he was going to make an effort to know her before he had to give her up to the world.

Even if it meant accepting the fact that she was with...him.

"I saw you, and Tony..."

* * *

Tony couldn't suppress the dreamy look on his face as he walked through the door of the Rhodes home.

She was just...perfect. Everything about her made his heart flutter, and the stars seem brighter. She had a smile that could melt him into a puddle, she had a laugh that made his knees go weak, and when he kissed her, her lips felt like velvet against his. They fit together like a puzzle piece whenever they'd curl up with each other, it was like they were literally made to be together. Her skin was soft, and smooth, and she loved it when he held her hand. And that look in her eyes, he loved it, he could just stare at her all day, and never get tired of seeing those wonderful eyes.

They always had so much fun when they were together, laughing and playing, they felt wonderful as long as they had each other. He could be himself, she would be herself, and they had the most incredible relationship he could have only dreamed of before.

He was still concerned about her, though. With everything going on, he was afraid that she might have a relapse, the memories of past days coming back to haunt her. But with him, she seemed fine. With anyone else, not so much. She would get scared easily, look around a lot, jump at a loud noise, that sort of thing. She divulged everything to him. She said her therapist was still trying to decide whether she had PTSD, and she was leaning towards yes. His girl would overcome that too, rise out of the ashes like she did before. He had complete faith in her, and he would bet on that faith every chance he got.

He pulled back the sheets of his bed after turning off the lights, climbing inside, and settling in. He had regrets about his encounter with the man who hurt her, he wished he would have hit him more than once (a lot more), but he knew that dwelling on the past never helped anyone, so it was useless to think about that now. What mattered in the present was that the love of his life was home, and recovering. That was all that mattered to him, all that was relevant, was her. It might not have been best for his alter ego, but hey, heroes deserve to be in love as much as the next guy.

He was a regular person underneath that armor, vulnerable, especially when it came to her. If by some random misfortune were to occur, and someone found out about his extra-curricular activities, would they try and get to him by hurting her? It was certainly possible, she was his weak spot, and a very beautiful one at that. He was always worried about it, someone finding out and then hurting the one's he loved, like that creep found out. He couldn't help it, she was screaming in pain! What was he supposed to do, leave her there to be electrocuted to death? She was his world, and his world needed help, he wasn't about to refuse her, then, or now.

Tony was just about to drift off into dreamland when a ringing, his phone, filled his ears. Why are people calling so late? Groaning his frustration, he felt along the nightstand for his self-designed phone. When he finally found it, he lifted his head from the pillow, and glanced at the ID.

_Whitney._

She said she would call him later, he had completely forgotten!

"Hey, how are-"

Sobbing filled the other line, _"I'm so sorry, Tony. I should've, I should've been more careful. I'm so sorry."_

"What's wrong?" he sat up, and rubbed his eyes, trying to awaken himself so he could calm her correctly.

_"My dad, he-he found out, and I never...I never saw it coming. I'm sorry, please forgive me."_

His heart dropped; he didn't want him to know, at least, not yet. She just couldn't deal with that, she was too fragile. "For what? You haven't done anything wrong. Not everything is your fault, Whitney. Sometimes certain things happen."

_"But I should've been more careful! He doesn't like us, he doesn't want us together, I-I could see it in his eyes. I'm scared, he scared me...I have to hang up now."_

"No, hold on, do you want to stay with Pepper tonight? I can call her for you if you want."

_"I can't, I have to hang up now. I'm sorry."_

"Wait! Don't hang...up."

The dial tone filled his ears, and he buried his face in the pillow.

This was going to be a loooong night...

* * *

All he wanted was for her to go to sleep, and now she had the wrong idea.

"You don't like him." Whitney mumbled, her eyes watching the carpet in her room.

"You're supposed to be resting," he insisted, attempting to take the phone from her tight grasp.

"He makes me happy!" she jerked away from him, sliding off her bed.

"You can't go off with boys when you're supposed to be in bed, healing. You're still sick, Whitney." he attempted to calm her down,

His daughter could be quite the drama queen sometimes...

"But he makes me feel so much better."

"Don't argue with me!"

At the tone of his voice, she started to back up to the wall, whimpering as she stared back at him with frightened eyes.

"I didn't mean it," he tried to touch her, but she slid down the wall, and curled into herself, becoming a tiny ball. "Stop being so childish, and come here."

He touched her shoulder, and she started to scramble, trying to get away.

"No, don't hurt me, please! Please, stop!" she cried as he held on to her shoulders,

"It's me, it's just me, no one's going to hurt you."

"No, no, please!"

He gently pulled her away from the wall, and embraced her, holding his child close until she stopped shivering.

"Are you okay now?" he asked as softly as he knew how, desperately trying to remember what he used to do when she was younger, and became frightened. So, he began petting her hair. It seemed to work.

"D-daddy?" she stared at him with widened eyes, her hands still shaking.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"They're so real."

"What is?"

"I remembered, when I was with him, and I could feel everything. It was horrible."

With a slight smile to reassure her, he helped her up, "I think I have something that will make you feel better."

"What?" she followed along beside him as he walked down the stairs to his surprise in the living room,

"I meant to give this to you at the hospital, but I forgot. I found him." he picked up a small, stuffed dog from atop the couch, and she instantly recognized it, becoming ecstatic.

She clutched the animal from him, and squeezed it tightly, "You found Mousey! Oh my goodness, thank you! I thought I lost him, where was he?"

"Under the couch."

"Thank you, Dad!" she threw an arm over his shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're welcome. And I do understand, you can be with anyone you choose, but I need you to get better. Your mother and I want to be your parents from now on." he settled her down with a pat on her shoulder,

"Mom isn't leaving yet?"

"She's staying, for now."

Her eyes seemed to turn sorrowful for a moment, then she returned his gaze, "Then you don't, hate me?"

Another stick poked at his heart after hearing her words, they were spoken with such sincerity, and honesty. She really did believe he despised her. "I never hated you." he replied, placing tender arms around her, and hugging her. It felt, nice, to have her there, to hold her again. He should have done this more often.

"I love you, Daddy."

That stick transformed into an anvil, crushing his already torn heart. He hadn't heard those sweet words since she was a little girl, in those dresses with ribbons, and who wore precious, tiny shoes. Tiny shoes that he still possessed, hidden away somewhere in this dreadful house, along with her kindergarten art projects, birthday cards that she drew, and all of her grade school pictures. Inside a cardboard box, was a whole other world, a world in which she was still a young, sweet, perfect baby girl. A world in which he could hold her again, like he was doing now, and call her his angel. An angel with curled hair and glasses, instead of straighteners and perfume. His baby was all grown up, and there was nothing he could do about that, but he could enjoy these last two years with her.

"I love you too, angel." her arms tightened after he spoke his childhood name for her. At least she still remembered.

"Daddy, I hope you and Tony can get along. I really like him."

"We'll try. I think you should be getting on to bed now." he placed a hand on her back, and guided her up the stairs, and into her room.

He carefully helped her settle in bed, pulling the covers over her, and re-positioning Mousey in her arms.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, her brows slightly furrowed in confusion.

"No, of course not, but you need to sleep."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As he gazed at that sweet face, he thought of the little girl who would climb the couch. They seemed so alike. She hasn't lost an ounce of that charm she possessed in her early years. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, wanting her to know that he really cared, and he walked out, taking one last glance at his daughter and her stuffed dog before closing the door.

And as he walked down the hall, he swore to never let her down again.

* * *

_She had to get away, but it hurt to even breathe._

_She was laying flat on her stomach, blood pooling around her, dripping off her back. She inched a dirty hand across the concrete, and gripped the floor, her fingernails scraping across the hard cement as she tediously crawled away from her tormentor._

_"We aren't done yet." The man stepped on her abused back, and she cried out in pain, ceasing her movements._

_"N-no...m-more." she groaned, her muscles clenching as he lifted her up, and slammed her body onto the concrete wall._

_"You're going to suffer just like I have," he seethed, throwing her down to the floor._

_"N-n-no," she scratched at the cement, desperately trying to get away, but she couldn't._

_She continued groaning as the hits increased, the intense pain proving too much. She wanted to get away, but she couldn't, she couldn't move anymore, it terrified her. She couldn't feel her legs, at all. She could only feel pain, and agony. Pure agony. The man finished, yanked her to her feet, and she stumbled, collapsing in front of him, her body too weak to even twitch._

_"Are you broken, deary?" The man kicked her in the stomach, causing more blood to bubble into her mouth._

_She wanted to pass out, anything to get him to just...stop, but he kept hitting her, over and over, and he wouldn't...stop. He wouldn't. The man grabbed her shoulders, and forced her up against the wall, slapping her hard across the cheek, making the crimson liquid trickle from her lips. Dirt, purple bruises, and a red substance marred her face; she looked like a mess, she looked like she felt. Terrible. But he wouldn't stop. He dragged her across the room to start it all over again, all the mindless torture, and agony. Why? She had been a bad person, yes, but did she deserve to be treated like a plaything? A toy to be used, broken, then thrown away?_

_She wanted to be thrown away..._

_"Pl-please...k-kill...m-m-me."_

_"Not yet."_

_"P-please."_

_"I said not yet! Remember this?"_

_"N-no. N-no, pl-please. I-I'm b-beg-begging you! No!"_

Whitney shot up from the bed, screaming.

Dear God, what just happened? She could feel everything! Wait...where was she? She was with him, she had to be!

Cold sweat clung to her body as she ran out her bedroom door, and dashed into the hall bathroom, hopping into the empty tub, and rocking herself back and forth. Back and forth. Over and over. Tears raced down her cheeks, dropping to the ceramic tub below. The dream she had felt so real, so there. She could feel the sting of his fist against her skin, she could feel every darn thing.

"Whitney? What are you doing in here?"

Valarie?

She turned her head to look at the housekeeper with wide, frightened eyes, "I-I woke up, a-and I forgot wh-where I was," she swallowed hard, emitting an audible gulp from her throat, "I th-thought I was with h-him, a-and...don't leave me, Valarie. I'm so scared."

Valarie took slow, light steps, walking up to her in the gentlest manner before coaxing her out of the tub, "It's going to be okay, love. This happens. It means you're healing, and trying to move on."

"But why does it have to hurt so much?" The tears still fell down the terrified girl's cheeks as the motherly housekeeper held her,

"I don't know, but what I do know is that you're stronger than you think. You can get through this, and everyone is going to help you."

"I just wish it would all go away."

"I have an idea, why don't you take a nice, warm shower to calm you down, and then I'll see if I can find anything to make cookies with. Would you like that?"

She nodded, gratefully took Valarie's hand, and they both walked back to her room together...

* * *

Tony wanted to see her. Badly.

So badly, in fact, that the "want" bordered on "need." He couldn't go back to sleep, not after that conversation, it still haunted him. She wouldn't hang up on him like that, or on anyone, it just wasn't her personality to do so. It made his mind wander into memories he wished had never occurred. She was always doubting herself, thinking she wasn't good enough. No matter how hard he tried, he could never get her to see herself like he did.

In one particular instance, she almost broke up with him because of it. She was insecure, very, insecure. He tried his best that night to make her see how beautiful she was, inside and out, but she wouldn't listen. She kept insisting he deserved better, and he barely had time to catch her after she ran away. He couldn't even imagine what it would have been like if he hadn't of caught up with her, if he had let her go. He probably would've been a miserable mess by now. But on that night, instead of them separating from each other, they grew even closer as he told her about all the lives she has changed, including his.

The way her eyes stared back at him with wonder was still with him to this day, he cherished that endearing sparkle, that unique shine, because it was only there when she looked at him. That twinkle was only present when he held her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders, and it astonished him that he was the first one to cause those pretty eyes to do such a wondrous thing. When she told him that he was her first love, when she said she loved him, he couldn't help a swell of happiness from rising in his chest. He was her first, like she was his. It was like those fairy-tales she was constantly reading about, they found real, actual love the very first time around.

In fact, they shared "I love you's" somewhere in their first month together, and on that night he had leaned his head on her's, and they both closed their eyes, breathing in the pleasant summer night air. If only they could be like that all the time, without worry, if only they could just run away from it all, to some deserted island with no one around. With no one to hurt her, to take her away from him. He couldn't let anyone hurt her, not again, he could never lose her. He needed her, like fire needs oxygen, he needed her to keep functioning. What would other people think? What if they didn't understand? He knew that she couldn't take scrutiny, she was still too fragile, but they couldn't keep this a definite secret for much longer. Too many people were now aware of them, but those persons were the least of his worries.

The FBI was making their investigation records public, and it would display his interview, the one where he nearly broke down in a fit of tears. He had to give them her phone, and they unlocked it, revealing-not like he didn't know already-a diary. Thankfully, they weren't releasing that. (Pepper was right, she really did need him.) He asked Roberta if there was a way to classify the documents, but she said it wasn't possible unless the files contained something that would threaten national security. Well, he wasn't national security, but he still thought it was pretty important. The world was again going to suspect more than a friendship between them, and again, the photographers, reporters, and pesky snoopers were going to attack full force. Great.

But they were more then right; this was love, and good Lord, no one should ever feel like this, so...so captivated by someone that they would do anything in this world just to make them happy. Who said love was a wonderful thing? Tony wanted to shred those words, love was the worst. It tore you apart like you were nothing, it made you nothing, compared to that person you were nothing except a wisp of wind in their heart.

Or you wanted to be.

It was frightening how much power she had over him; without her, he was a depressed puddle, but with her, he felt like he could do anything. She was just so darned perfect. Perfection wedged underneath shy eyes, and a tender smile. Main conclusion: love sucks. Big time. It was awful, yet wonderful, and all-around just plain old insane.

Why, why did he have to become so mesmerized by those timid, little eyes? Why? They controlled him, determined his emotions for the whole week just by one, loving glance. And then there were the times when those eyes weren't so loving...those were times when he felt like drowning in the Hudson Bay. Drowning. That sad glimmer, or the angry fury that sometimes possessed those blue orbs made him want to apologize over and over, and kiss away every tiny mistake he made. That, that horrible feeling, displayed how much control she had over him.

He was going nuts; he finally understood his feelings, and they were terrible, he felt terrible. Every second he spent without her hurt him more and more, destroyed him, shattered him-he needed to be with her. If the universe stopped spinning, he wouldn't care at all, surreal emotion had enveloped his heart, and it did not look as if they were going to let go any time soon. Previously, he thought he loved her, he felt like he did, but no, he had no clue what kind of devotion he would develop for her.

He reached her definition of love, that was for sure. The complete, and unadulterated devotion, admiration, and affection, he reached it. He was just a bar below it before, and now, he climbed it. If this was how she felt towards him, he needed to consider doing a substantial amount of reconfiguring to their relationship, such as holding her hand every thirty seconds. Or five. Or forever. He wanted to be with her forever, eternity, a lifetime. He was sure of it, completely sure, and as soon as he could he was going to ask a certain motherly lawyer about teen marriages, and perhaps, he was going to divulge their relationship, and finally make it public, to everyone.

He wasn't hiding his affection for her anymore, he wasn't going to be afraid anymore. He fell in love with her, and he wasn't ashamed of it. He was slowly realizing that if he wanted to love her, he had to let her go as well. She had her life, he had his, and they both had to live them, but their lives would always intertwine. He would always be right beside her, but he had to stop being so darn over-protective.

That would be an extremely difficult hurdle...

He also now realized she was...mortal. It was strange, but beforehand, he had never really thought about her death. He imagined it, sure, in his ever-present hero paranoia, but he never believed that it would actually take place. His Whitney was almost killed, by something he didn't anticipate, and put at the mercy of a cruel, cold psychopath...that wasn't her father. Okay, okay, so he was hating on her dad, what did it matter? It mattered to her. He couldn't figure out why she could be so...so...caring to someone who has done nothing but tear her down. Maybe, it was because she was a genuine angel. A true, beautiful, lovely, angel. She had to be to continue to care about that guy! She would go on and on about how her "father" was too tired, too this and that. He would listen, of course, but in the back of his mind, he was always wondering if she was crazy. A good sort of crazy.

She cared about the two people that, basically, started her on a downward spiral. It was, unique, and inspiring. To a certain extent. He didn't care much for her parents (he had plenty of legitimate reasons to dislike her father), and her mother...well, his opinion of her wasn't that nice either. But, she cared about them, and since he cared about her, he might attempt to, warm up, to them perhaps. Just for her sake.

He was the one going crazy.

Love really sucks.

It was the only emotion known to man that causes anyone affected to completely lose control over their minds, he could barely think straight if he didn't know she was okay. Kind of like now. He kept staring at his phone, and under the steady gaze it was under, he didn't know why it hadn't melted already. Why hasn't she called back yet? He wasn't about to induce her wrath, and call her. He made that mistake once, two months in, and lets just say that he never thought they would have made it past two and a half months, but here they were, almost seven months in, and still going stronger than ever.

But that darn phone still didn't ring...

* * *

Whitney let the warm water caress her aching muscles as she stood under the spray, bunching her hair, and squeezing out the excess water.

It was hard, seeing the damage he had done to her body. There was a scar on her thigh where...and there were long, diagonal marks on her back where he...not to mention the burn marks on her knees when...God, why did everything have to be so damn hard? She could barely even come to terms that she had been tortured, brutally tortured, for some sick freak's amusement. The therapist said she'd have to accept it sooner or later, and "face it down." She couldn't, it was just so painful to go back to those days, too painful to even think about it. She was scarred forever...

"You can do this," she told herself aloud as she continued to clean up. Everywhere she touched, she could feel his rough hands instead of her own. She felt violated, exposed, broken, but they said this might happen, her therapist said it might. She glanced down at her feet; the water rushing beside them, and the cold, ceramic base of the tub reminded her of that concrete floor somehow. Its feel. She was offered crutches the day she left the hospital because of the damage to her pressure points, but she refused, she wasn't going to let him win. They said it will always be present, the pain when she walked, there was too much damage, and there wasn't much they could do except repair what was on the surface.

He hurt her deeper than just the surface.

The man infiltrated her very soul, ripped out her innocent nature, and replaced it with grief, and sorrow, but as long as she had her friends, her family, and Tony, she would be okay. He would care for her, accept her, love her, even with the damage.

He was wonderful like that.

_Do you really think he loves you?_

She let the bar of soap slip from her hands as the voice, his voice, boomed through her head.

_Be honest with yourself, your father's right, you're worthless._

The water ran over her face as the torment continued, the clear liquid mixing with her salty tears.

_You aren't such a little dove anymore, are you?_

No, no, no. He wasn't in her life anymore, he was gone! She backed up against the cool tiles, tugging at her hair. It was over now, she was safe, he couldn't touch her!

_You have so many scars, eventually, he won't want you. He'll find another girl, and you'll be alone for the rest of your sorry life._

She sunk to her knees in the shower, the days of torture running through her head.

_If only you could have seen how bloody you were, all the bruises, and cuts. He won't want you anymore, deary. You don't deserve anyone._

Fear overtaking her, she shut off the water, and swiftly grabbed the towel, wrapping it around her body as she yanked back the curtains, and stepped out of the stall. She couldn't take it, they said the medicine would help suppress the memories, but it wasn't working. They said it would keep those awful dreams away, but it wasn't. Valarie said it was all a part of the healing process, but why did they have to be so vivid?

Sucking in deep breaths like her therapist instructed, she combed her hair, focusing solely on releasing the tangles, and knots before plucking out a black band from her basket of hair accessories, and pulled it up into a neat ponytail. As she gazed into the glass mirror, she got lost in her reflection; the mirror was foggy, like her, the mist in the glass was her mind. She had bits and pieces missing, the mirror had fog clouding parts of the glass so you couldn't see it. Like her. She had fog clouding parts of her memory, it was cruelly snatched away from her, and she didn't know how to bring it back. Although, she tried desperately to do so.

Strangely, the razor she kept in the mirror cabinet stood out to her, she had never noticed it like this before. The little blade glimmered in the light, shining in her eyes, and she couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the glistening metal. Maybe...maybe it could help her, it looked as if it could, it looked as if it could wash away the memories, and make her forget. She wanted them all to go away, but she wanted to release the fog in her mind as well. This was all so confusing! She needed escape, escape from everything. No one could help her, not a single soul could save her, she knew that.

This was her fault, like everything else, she brought this upon herself by being the disgusting person she was. Why was she ever born? She didn't deserve to even be alive! All those horrible things she committed in the past brought her to this dark point, and she was suffering for them, but she needed more of it. She had to punish herself more, always more, there would never be enough. Was she so stupid to think that God could save her? She was broken, that man tore her to shreds! Grace could never reach someone like her, she needed that metal.

With trembling fingers, she grabbed the blade, and held it to her wrist, experimentally pressing down, and observing the red liquid gradually well in the shallow cut. She needed something, something to take away the pain. This would do that, she felt that it would help her. Slowly, she dragged it along her skin, creating a barely noticeable scrape, but she needed more, she needed so much more.

More.

Her eyes widened in horror as the crimson substance shook her into reality. She couldn't do this! There were better ways, there were safer ways, she didn't have to harm herself to receive cleansing. It didn't work. She would never go back to this, she swore she would never return to a life filled with this. Despair. She never wanted to go back to it. Gripping the granite counter top, she attempted to cease the flood of emotion, but it didn't help, the tears came, one by one, they fell into the porcelain sink, swirling down the drain, going unnoticed by the scared girl above them.

The guilt, and pain of her past mistakes was staggering. She made so many in the past years, so many horrible, terrible mistakes, but she didn't have to use a blade to erase them, no, she didn't need that gruesome eraser. That life was gone, over, fully cleared, the old Whitney, the broken one, was gone, and she was never coming back. She wasn't broken anymore, the man didn't break her, she wasn't lost. She would never become lost again.

Turning on the faucet, she rinsed off her wrist, wincing slightly at the sudden contact of cold water on her skin. Never again. Slowly, she turned off the water, fighting the urge to change the temperature. Causing herself pain was not the answer to her problems, she saw that now, but it felt so good to punish her body for what she'd done. She needed punishment.

"I am not doing this!" she slammed an open palm down onto the counter, "get out of my head already! Get out, get out, get out!"

It wasn't letting go.

She needed to hurt herself, it said. His voice was telling her to hurt herself. Just take it, one tiny cut, that's all she needed. But one would lead to more! No, it won't. It will just be a small one, no one will know. You're all alone, no one can see you, you need this. She didn't need it, she didn't want it! Yes, yes, you do. You want this more than anything, you want to feel loved, take it, it will help you. Hurting herself didn't help anyone, it only caused pain to everyone around her, especially herself!

The voice was relentless, she had to stop it.

_I can't let you hurt me,_ she said to herself as she got dressed, and dashed out of the bathroom,_ you are leaving, now._

With severe determination, she reached under her pillow, and opened her bubblegum notebook where she kept her notes. Notes on everything the therapist told her. She said this might happen, that she might hear the man inside her head, but who would have thought that it would be this bad, or this horrifying?

"Where are you?" she flipped through the pages madly, the voice was getting louder.

_Do it! It will make you feel better, loved, accepted, cherished! It will help you! It will take away all those memories, it will help you!_

"Go away!" she shouted aloud, "you can't hurt me!"

_Take it, take the blade! You want it, you need it, it will-_

"I don't need anything from you, and you are going away. You can't touch me, and you won't get to me!"

And it left.

She fell back onto the pillows, her notebook resting on her chest, "Oh my gosh," she breathed, completely overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the voice. It was so...powerful. She could hear it just as clearly as she could hear the gentle breeze flowing past her window. She needed help, this wasn't something she could solve on her own, and she was definitely not telling her father. He was worried about her enough already.

Tony. Tony knew everything, he could help her, he always knew exactly what to do. She turned over, and picked up her cell phone. The FBI finally had the decency to hand it over to her this morning. She dialed her boyfriend's number swiftly, since she had taken the sequence to memory, the phone was answered immediately despite the time being close to midnight. Figures. It was as if he could go a week without any sleep whatsoever.

She couldn't be more thankful for that.

_"I was worried about you, is everything alright?"_ he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"You're not going to believe what just happened to me." she brought her knees to her chest, and wrapped one arm around them, resisting the urge to rock back and forth.

_"What's wrong, are you okay?"_

_Just hang up the phone._

"No, I'm not. I'm scared, I'm really, really scared."

_"Do you want me to come over?"_

"Please hurry. It's horrible."

_They're not horrible, you just don't like them._

_"I'll be right there, Whitney. Just, hold on."_

She turned off her phone, and began walking around the room, trying to get that awful voice away from her head.

_He can't help you, Whitney. You're mine now._

"Leave me alone!" she shouted to nothing, as if it could hear her.

_No, I can't do that._

And, apparently, it could.

"You're gone now, you can't hurt me, you're in jail!" she backed up against the wall next to her dresser,

Not for long, deary.

"Go away! I don't want you here!" she stared at the door; any minute, he could storm through, and take her.

_Are you sure about that? You feel lost without me, don't you, sweetheart?_

"No, I don't need you, now go away you sick freak!"

_We've forgotten our rules already, haven't we? No name-calling. Remember how much I punished you for that? I can do it again._

"No! I've been through enough!"

_Not yet you haven't._

"Go away, please, leave me alone!"

_Are we begging now? I love it when you beg._

"Stop, please, make it stop." she dropped to her knees, tears rushing down her flushed cheeks.

_Poor, sweet, little Whitney. So broken. It was much easier with me wasn't it? Dawson still thinks you're Cassidy by the way, he really misses his sister._

She collapsed to the floor,"Leave me alone." she cried, grasping at the strings of the carpet.

_I can't do that, I like to torment you._

"Somebody help me." she shook her head, wanting him to go away.

_No one can help you, no one can save you, I'm inside your mind, and I'm staying here forever. You can't get rid of me, dearest. Never. You can't get away from me._

Then it left, again.

She shakily rose from the floor, her knees wobbling and her hands quaking, and fell on the bed, feeling drained and exhausted. Tony could help her, he had a way of making everything okay again, but she still needed something; those pills weren't helping, and self-harm was out of the question.

She turned over, and buried her face in the pillow. She did want it all to end, it was wrong, but she wanted to end her life. It would solve her problems, and make everyone happy. Or would it? Her parents were taking an interest in her, she had the two most amazing best friends in the universe, and she was loved. It wouldn't do anything but hurt those around her, it was a selfish thought, and she needed to get rid of it.

A sudden tapping on her window made her jump, scrambling into a sitting position. She stared at the window as if somehow it would transform into an animate object, then the tapping occurred again, even louder. Curiosity getting the best of her, she hopped off her bed, and strode to the window, pulling back the curtains slowly.

Iron Man? Oh, it was Tony...what in the flipping world was going through that idiot brain of his? If her father saw him out there, it'd be bye-bye birdie, and hello disaster area!

She lifted the window, "What are you doing here?" she demanded,

He opened the faceplate, and answered, "Seeing if you're okay."

"Like that? Tony, if my dad sees you, you're going to be fried circuits!"

"It's faster. Now tell me what's wrong, or I will pull you out here, and make you tell me."

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

She gave him an incredulous glare before saying, "I keep hearing...Walsh's voice inside my head, terrorizing me. It's freaking me out."

"Here," he gave her a hand, "why don't we take your mind off that for a while?"

"Valarie's waiting for me, what if she notices I'm gone?"

"Leave her a note, because you and me, are going to have a little fun together."

"B-but, I'm in my nightgown," she subconsciously tugged the skirt of the dress down,

"Now you're just making excuses."

"Fine, I'll be right back." she shut the window, but not after giving him a certain look.

She grabbed a spare piece of paper on her dresser, a pen, and wrote a note saying she was going for a walk. Easy excuse. She placed the paper on her bed, and went back to the dresser, pulling out a drawer, and picking a pair of white leggings. Modesty. Especially when she was with her boyfriend. Repositioning her dress, she hustled over to the window, and lifted it as high as it could go.

"You know, this is a whole lot scarier when you're conscious." she took his hand, and grasped it tightly as he helped her out, and into his arms.

"I'm not going to drop you, I never did b-"

"What were you going to say?"

"Never mind."

Forcefully lowering her curiosity at his words, she tightened her arms around his neck as he sped up, "What a time to realize you're afraid of heights."

"We're almost there." he informed, keeping steady arms under her legs, and shoulders.

Feeling curious, she looked down, and immediately regretted it. The city was a very, very, _very_ long way down. "Oh boy. Okay. Bad idea," she buried her head in the crook of his neck, and refused to move any further. Darkness, and heights. How wonderful.

"Okay, now open your eyes."

Having complete trust in her love, she cracked open her eyes, and stared at the most exquisite sight she'd ever seen. The lake glistened softly under the delicate moonlight, and a delightful shimmer radiated off the water as the beam of light spread across it, creating a breath-taking glow. Soft ripples on the surface of the water enhanced the intricate beauty as she looked atop the liquid. Small waves brushed against the docks, splashing up, and falling back down, and the noises they made while doing so soothed and calmed her from the terrifying ordeal she experienced earlier.

"It's beautiful." her eyes sparkled against the moonlight,

"I knew you'd love it." he couldn't help but stare at her dreaming face, slightly overtaken by the way the stars enhanced her eyes. Why hadn't he done this sooner?

She completely forgot about the voice, her troubles, and her nightmares as she gazed in awe at the body of water. She had always been fascinated by the stars, and her world, and this incredible sight only reinforced her ideals. The bright, celestial wonders seemed to shine down just for them as he held her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, the pair in complete bliss.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much better. You always know how to make me feel so happy."

"If you want, we can go someplace quiet. Maybe with low lighting."

"Hello, nightgown, still."

"But you can change, right? Please?"

"You might not need sleep, but I do."

"Pretty please?"

"It's probably three in the morning, no."

"With a cherry on top? Come on, you love cherries!"

"Okay, okay, but just this once."

"Yes!"

But just as they were about to go, he abruptly stopped, "Something just _has_ to interrupt, doesn't it! There's something down there, I've gotta go."

"What about me?"

"You have to come too. Hold on tight."

She clung to him like a squirrel as he dove down, and maneuvered through the docking yard, and various shipping containers with ease.

He placed her down behind a container, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze behind the mask. "Whatever happens, don't move."

"Will you be okay?" she gave a light touch to his armored cheek,

"Don't move an inch, Whitney."

"But I-"

Before she could say another word, he was gone, zooming off towards the "bad guys."

Her knight.

* * *

Tony had good days, and bad days as Iron Man.

This, was one of the bad days.

It turned out that the Black Knight really doesn't like it when you disrupt his work, or, he just got cranky. Whatever the reason, he was left with a bruise on his left elbow, even more on his knees, and a cut on the side of his head. He must have underestimated him. It's always the quiet ones. He had to take a minor detour to the armory, just to...recollect...himself. And it certainly was not because his girlfriend told him to! Okay, so it was. He would do anything for her, and she kept insisting he was hurt, so he went along with it. After all, it really wasn't going to affect anybody if she was with him for a few more minutes.

Well, except him.

"Ow, okay, that hurt." he winced as Whitney continued dabbing at the cut,

"Then stop moving." she countered, placing a hand on his chest, and pressing the cloth on the wound. "I think that does it," she said after the bleeding stopped, but then, she put her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes, "this better not be a recurring thing, Anthony."

_Oh boy, the full name bit._ "I'm in trouble?" he looked at her sheepishly. That tone of her voice was seldom used, but_ when_ used, it was highly effective at making him feel guilty.

"Yes, you are!" she put the cloth back on the chair, "you nearly got yourself killed because you were...you were protecting me, weren't you?" her arms fell back down to her sides as she stared at him,

"Well...sort of." he rubbed the back of his neck, turning away so he didn't have to see her eyes.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he scrounged up the courage to gaze at her, "Don't do that, Tony. Please." she took his hand, and squeezed it.

He pulled his hand away, and stood up, placing both of them on her shoulders, "But I had to! He was going to find you, and-"

"I can take care of myself."

"It was my fault you were there in the first place, it was my responsibility to-"

"You don't have to be responsible for everything, darling."

"Well, yeah, I do."

"But you don't have to risk your life for me."

He gradually slid his hands down to settle on her back, and he watched her head tilt to the side. "I have this...urge, to keep you safe. I've tried to let you go, but I can't, I'm physically unable to let anything hurt you, Whitney. It's not possible."

"You know I love you, right?" she cupped his cheek, and he noticed something on her wrist, like a cut.

"What's this?" he clutched her hand, and turned it over, examining the mark.

"Oh, that?" she pulled her hand away, and tucked it behind her back, "I just, scraped it on the counter."

"Whitney."

"I did!"

"Sweetheart."

"I was being a stupid klutz! I bumped up against the counter, and scraped my wrist."

"Baby."

"That's all."

"I can tell when you're lying."

Her eyes misted over as she snapped, "I used the flippin' razor, okay?"

He tried not to let his eyes give away too much emotion as he tenderly touched her cheek, and kissed her forehead. "Anything else?" he asked, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"No, that's it. I just...wanted, relief." her eyes dropped for a second, and if he wasn't mistaken, a look of shame crossed those eyes.

He remembered having that...feeling, once. After the plane crash. It was the worse feeling in the world. She deserved to know that she wasn't alone in this, that he struggled with it too, and that it was perfectly normal. She didn't have to be ashamed.

He took a deep breath, and blurted out, "I know. I know what that's like."

Her eyes widened, "You do?"

Maybe that was a bad idea...

"Yeah. I never did anything about it, but I know the feeling. It's like you're so overwhelmed that you're going to explode."

"Exactly! But how-"

"Let's just say, those six months after...they were really, really long."

"I'm sorry, darling."

"What are you sorry for? That's over, I've...moved on and I have you, things are different now. You get past stuff like this, Whit. All it takes is a little, endurance, you just gotta hold on and wait. We'll get through this, I promise."

"But it hurts so much. Everywhere I go, I feel like he's going come out, and grab me. I can't go to court, I just can't! He'll be there, Tony, he'll be right across from me, and-and I can't."

"Hey, we can get through this, trust me on this one."

"I don't know."

"You got through the last week, we just have to take this one step at a time."

"Why do you keep saying 'we'?"

"Because, couples go through things together. You're a part of me and I'm a part of you, just like you said before."

"You're so sweet."

With a smile on his face, he inched closer, and she did the same. Their lips met softly at first, then as they wrapped their arms around each other, it became more passionate. Grasping onto her, he pressed his lips against her's firmly, holding her close to him as her fingers ran through his hair. He couldn't breathe, not literally, but figuratively. Whenever she looked at him, his heart soared, and whenever she touched him, he felt like melting. Was this what his dad felt like when he was with his mother? Like a...like a mushy blob? He could've sworn that her lips were silk as she kissed him over and over, and he never wanted her to stop. That scared him.

The thought of wanting her to just keep loving him like she was, scared him, all he wanted was to just stay in this exact moment. How he was able to become so engulfed in passion when he was around her was incredible. The way she made him forget every little thing, the way her hands felt when he held them, the way her eyes twinkled in the night sky like baby blue stars just hours ago. The way that dazzling moonlight got caught in her hair, making it shine. Back there, at the docks, she was truly his bright star, she looked like one, exactly like one in that moonlight. He had to take her there some other time. He'd put his arm around her shoulders, and hold her close, watching her eyes sparkle.

She gave him one last kiss, and he couldn't help but press his lips to her cheek. He lingered there, around the side of her face, for a few seconds, to decide whether or not to give her another one, and just keep going. All Tony wanted to do was keep going, forever, with her, but he had to get her home.

"I'll take you home, okay?" he whispered softly, a dreamy tone infiltrating his voice as he brushed back her hair, running his fingers through it.

"Alright," she whispered back, nuzzling her nose with his.

"But first, do you hear it still?"

She seemed to look around for a second, then answered, "It's gone."

"Perfect."

He took her hand, and, to play for time, he started to explain the armor as he showed it to her. He found himself unable to take her home, unable to leave her just yet. He wanted her next to him for a few more minutes, with her head resting on his shoulder like it was now, with her arms around him, and

Just, a few more minutes...

Dalton was already planning his escape.

Planning, planning, it kept him busy. Even in solitary. Those idiot guards had the nerve to place him in solitary! Well, he added two more to his list of dimwitted fools. Although, he rather enjoyed himself all alone, with nothing but the voices to keep him company, and not those other stupid twits. The voices inside his head screamed at him to destroy something, but they didn't understand, his trial was rapidly approaching, he had to be on his "best behavior."

Which meant, no strangling the simpletons.

But, despite his growing animosity towards the prison law enforcement Dalton couldn't wait for the trial, he couldn't wait until he could see that look in her eyes. He would intimidate her again, make her feel small, with just a menacing stare. The wringing hands, the sweat on her forehead, the darting eyes, he couldn't wait to induce it all on his precious toy.

He couldn't wait to see her again...

* * *

Whitney didn't want him to leave her, ever.

She laid back in her bed, dreaming about him with her eyes open, thinking about those wonderful electric blue eyes that looked at her with so much affection, she thought she was going to burst every time. The man was wrong, Tony would always love her, even with those scars, because he didn't care about the way she appeared on the outside, he cared about the inside. He was too wonderful for her, that was for sure.

Smiling, she turned over, and pulled on the cord of her lamp, turning off the light source in her room, but after she turned off her light, she stared into the darkness, and she could see it all again, hear it all again, and feel it all again. Her own screams echoed once more in her ears, she saw the man's eyes through the black, and the sheets covering her body felt like that hard basement floor. Hyperventilating, she pulled hard on her lamp cord, and it went away.

The line was blurring between the past and the present, and all she could do was let her torment happen again, she had to face it down. She was brave. Tony called her brave. Taking in deep breaths, she turned off her light, and let it happen. And suddenly, those eyes didn't seem as frightening, those screams didn't stop her heart, and that concrete floor didn't freeze her into an ice-cube.

Maybe she was brave after all...

* * *

**And now, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for sticking with me through this...whatever this crazy mess is. You guys have encouraged me so much (one person in particular...you know who you are...), and it's only because of your encouraging words that I entered a competition, and that one of my original novels is being published in June...I have refrained from yelling, and screaming until now. My parents have gotten most of the yelling, and screaming though. So, thank you, thank you, aaaand thank you! I can't say thank you enough! Seriously, I can't. If you all knew how much you meant to me, you'd suffocate, really, I appreciate you all that much. I've never, ever put my writing out publicly before, and to have someone say something relatively nice about it just warms my heart. Again, thank you!**


	16. Chapter 16: Turbulent Emotions

**A/N: You have permission to yell at me, go ahead, you've earned it. I was lazy, I admit it, I was very, very lazy. And I'm sorry. Really, I am. I just couldn't get all of the scenes I wanted in this chapter to work out, so, I got rid of them, and problem solved! **

**And here goes the freight train...**

* * *

Dalton paced around his cell, locked away in permanent solitary, near ready to yank out his hair at the insanity of the voices' demands.

"Do you fully understand the weight of what you're asking me to do?" the man spoke to the air. "We've planned this for over four months!"

The voices didn't care.

"I can't do it now! These things take time; I can't just decide to do this one morning. Besides, we can cause the girl more pain by waiting. My trial is in a few weeks, we'll see her then."

The voices didn't want to wait.

"This is complicated. This prison is different from the others."

The voices couldn't be persuaded.

"I am in charge, I am in control! Why? Because you all are too weak, too bloodthirsty! You never took the time to plan!"

The voices were angry.

"I apologize, maybe my words were a bit hasty, but I still disapprove. We agreed on both of them."

The voices wanted the girl, and they wanted her now.

And Dalton, he would provide for them, even if it meant going against his careful planning.

Because the girl was his...

* * *

Five months. Five grueling months filled with rehabilitation, psycho-social therapy, and worst of all, seemingly endless physical and mental examinations. All for that blasted trial.

Whitney wanted this over with; the guilt, humiliation, and shame. She was supposed to be free, safe, and secure, she was home! But no, she had to keep enduring it all again through psychiatric nonsense about how her "social problems" might affect her in the future. So she didn't like the color green, what was the big fuss?

She tried to be brave, and endure it, she tried extremely hard, but it was virtually impossible with the threat of seeing her tormentor drawing near. She couldn't see him, never again, not even to testify so the monster would be sent to the needle. Often, she wished it wasn't an injection she was sending him to. The man deserved to feel what she felt; agony, terror, and misery. But he would never get it, that she understood.

Because years ago, a panel of psychiatrists who had never been, and never will be, almost tortured to death declared him insane.

What did they know? They weren't there when he nearly beat her to a bloody pulp just because he was bored. Bored. Boredom was his excuse for causing excruciating pain to a person, and they wanted to study him like he was a poor, lost little lamb who had drifted from the flock.

Dalton Walsh was everything but a lamb.

The medical records proved that. The therapy sessions proved that. The permanent scars proved that.

Why couldn't they see it?

She didn't cry every night for nothing, she didn't hyperventilate at the sound of electric crackles because she was playing around, she didn't have a scar on her thigh from being stupid. She got those scars, tangible and intangible, because of a demon straight from the depths of hell.

And it was because of those fears that her father wouldn't allow her to be by herself for more than five minutes. Five. A girl needed her privacy! But, however much she despised the idea of being kept under close watch, she realized that since her appearance in court was due in a matter of days, she needed protection more than ever. Who knew what would emerge from the shadows during the proceedings? She didn't want to imagine that at the moment, while she enjoying her alone time, her five minutes without the constant presence of the bodyguards her father assigned. More or less. They were probably right outside her bedroom door.

"I feel like a criminal." Whitney confessed, her head hanging off the back of her mattress as she chatted with her friend.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." Pepper responded, consoling her from the other line.

Contacting her friend, sister, for solace was a frequent occurrence. Because, with Pepper, she could divulge certain aspects of her life that...well, her boyfriend couldn't comprehend. Of course he would try, and she respected that immensely, but sometimes, talking to another teenage girl was more helpful. There were other complicated situations that only her best friend could understand.

Like strange, unpredictable fathers.

"It is. If you had O'Brien stalking you like a vulture, you would feel like a criminal too. Daddy is going way overboard with this. There's like, two of them!"

"At least he cares, right? I mean, before, he wasn't all that worried about you. So, this is better...in a way."

"I guess." she flipped herself over, "what's a trial like anyway?" she asked, examining her nails, and slightly cringing at their state of disrepair. She had been gnawing on them severely the past five months.

"Well, you go in, and since you're the main witness, sit there 'til they call you up. Haven't you talked with the lawyers yet? They'll tell you all about it."

"No, the state's doing all the stuff, and Mom and Dad won't let me near them. They won't let me near the T.V either."

"That's kind of expected, you know, so you don't see anything. The news people are all wackos when it comes to stories like yours, no offense."

"None taken. I just want this over with. Oh, hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"Tony's coming over today! Isn't that amazing?" a giggled laugh escaped her lips as she fingered the locket around her neck. Ever since he placed it around her neck at the hospital, she never took it off. "Gosh, it's been forever. Is it bad between him and my father? He never really talks about it."

"Yeah. Really bad. You don't know the extent of the bad, it's that...bad."

"He's sweet about it though. I don't want to make him uncomfortable, or anything."

"I don't think he'll really notice, unless your dad walks in, then I'm sure something might, go wrong. But since that's probably not gonna happen, I don't think he's going to be anywhere near uncomfortable. Just don't leave him alone for a long time. If you know what I mean."

"Pepper!"

"What? I'm just saying. Every time I turn around you two are kissing, or hugging, or holding hands."

"Hey, it's not all me, you know-whoops, double trouble's back. Gotta go." she whispered into her phone as the two guards walked back through the door.

"Okay, bye!"

"Anything wrong?" she asked the guards with a smile, turning off her phone.

"You're not supposed to be alone for more than five minutes, ma'am." the guard answered politely.

"Right. So, um, I'm gonna go and fix my hair a little. In the bathroom. It's kind of small though, so you might want to, stay out there."

She slipped inside her bathroom, releasing a suppressed huff as she brushed her hair, smoothing it, and removing the scarce knots. She had to look her best for him. She glanced at her organized makeup collection, scanning it over for the perfect lipstick, and she found it. A soft shade of pink. As she applied the subdued color to her lips, she thought about their anniversary. An entire year. She would be with him for an entire year. Someone loved her, consistently, for that long. It was almost unbelievable. The genius truly cared for her, and she for him, and hopefully, their love would continue. He took her mind off of the terrible things, the bad things, and made her feel like she was in her own euphoria. Her own Heaven.

Humming a simple love song, she fluffed her hair, checked over her lipstick, and wondered if she should cover up a small mark on her right cheek. Deciding against it, she nearly skipped back out her bathroom door, a feeling of excitement enveloping her as the anticipation of seeing her love grew.

"My boyfriend's coming over today," she giggled as the guards watched her with confusion in their eyes. "He's smart, and sweet, and gentle, and caring. He's perfect. And he loves me. He really, really loves me." Whitney clutched her picture of him on her nightstand, and sat down on her bed, lost within its photograph, and mahogany frame. "Isn't love wonderful?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am."

At that moment, the doorbell sounded from downstairs, and all previous feelings evaporated into nothingness, all she could think about was that kind smile, dark hair, and those gentle eyes.

She turned to one of the guards with a dazed look in her eyes, "I'll be downstairs."

He gave a confirming nod, and with light steps, she walked out of her room, making sure she appeared as elegant as possible as she progressed down the stairs. Upon seeing him by the front door, talking with Valarie, she lost control over her movements, and raced down to hug him.

She encircled her lover from behind. "You're here!" she exclaimed, holding him tightly.

Tony laughed, and gave her arm a light squeeze. "If I could turn around, I'll hug you back."

Giggling, she let him go, and he embraced her. "How're you doing?" his hands remained on her back, keeping her close.

"Fine."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"I'll leave you two kids alone." Valarie gave a discreet glare towards the two men coming down the stairs, and they back pedaled up the steps, retreating into one of the closest rooms. A smile crossed her face as she glanced at the two teens, peeking at them one last time before heading back into the dining room.

"I'm happy you wanted to come over." Whitney revealed spontaneously, feeling abnormally nervous.

"I'm happy you invited me over." Tony leaned in slightly, and she rocked back onto her heels.

"We can sit down if you want?" she suggested, turning formal, as if she were at a charity gala. For what reason remained unknown.

"Sure," he grasped her hand, and they strolled into the nearby living room together...

* * *

Things became awkward between them very quickly. Just how the atmosphere inside her living room grew so tense, Tony had no idea.

But he was about to fix it.

He pretended to yawn, stretching out his arms, and one just so happened to wrap around her shoulders. Classic.

"Wow," he glanced at his watch, "I've gotta get more sleep."

"Uh-huh." she nestled into his side, curling up next to him. "I've been waiting for you to do that."

A smile crept up on his face as he looked at her, caressing her cheek. He gave a kiss to the top of her head, savoring how close she was; her arms connected around his neck, and her head resting on his shoulder. She looked beautiful there next to him, with the sunlight reflecting off her face, her cheeks glowing, and her lips appearing smooth, soft, and...kissable.

Without thinking, he blurted out, "You're beautiful."

Upon realizing what he had spoken, Tony clamped his mouth shut, quickly removed his arm, and stared at the floor. It was a very nice carpet, very clean, and very...grey. She was staring at him, he could feel the heat of her gaze on the side of his face, she was definitely staring at him. Crud.

Gentle hands touched his shoulders, and a pair of lips pressed on his cheek. "Thank you." a voice laden with silk muttered,

"Y-you're welcome." he forced himself to find the courage to look at her again, and once he saw that affection in her eyes, he gave her a quick, small kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open, and gazed straight into his. "No matter how many times you do that, it's always so sweet." she said, her whisper sounding gentler than a cool summer breeze.

Chuckles filled with nervousness left his mouth at her words, and how close she was to him. Why was he becoming so uneasy, when just a second ago he had her in his arms?

He was snapped out of his jittery state when she trailed a hand down the side of his face. "Thinking about the rainbow?" she teased,

"What else would I be thinking about?" he gave her a warm smile, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

At his previous action, her eyes lit up, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. "What do you want to do? On our anniversary, I mean."

"I've got something planned."

"What?"

"I can't tell you."

"So, it's a secret?"

"Yep."

"Isn't it exciting? We'll be together for a year," she smiled as she laid her head on his shoulder, and he tightened his arms around her, holding his girlfriend close to him.

Shutting his eyes, he felt her chest rising and falling in perfect synchronization with his, and the delightful fragrance of her usual lavender perfume wafted into his nose. She loved the smell of lavender. He would have lavender candles on the table at their date, to make it even more special. Whenever he noticed small details, it made her happy. Her eyes sparkled whenever he did something sweet for her, and on their year anniversary, he was going to pile on all sorts of sweetness.

He could hardly imagine what he was about to do in a few weeks; he was going to...propose. The word sounded ominous as it rung through his mind, he hadn't exactly planned the entire thing yet. The proposing thing. He was still attempting to find the perfect ring for her. Maybe silver, she liked silver, but the locket was gold, she was too fashion-conscious to ignore that tiny fact. Besides, the gold ones were more common, and wedding bands were typically gold. He'd go with that.

Soft lips pressed on his cheek, and a sweet whisper filed his ear. "I love you." it said, the voice that uttered them as smooth as silk, and more sincere than anything he had heard in his seventeen years of life. Whitney. She owned the glossy voice. He would never got tired of it.

He didn't want to open his eyes; the feel of her body so close to him made his stomach do somersaults, the pleasant kind. If only he could have this forever, this feeling, he wouldn't need anything else. She would always be enough. The tender touch of her softened hands, her delicate kisses, her gentle movements and her gentle soul. Those things would be enough for a lifetime. He didn't care about the way she looked; he only cared about her love, and the way she gave it. She gave out her affection without a catch, or game, or twist. She held his hand when he became worried, embraced him when he was upset, and kissed him when he felt lonely.

They were forever connected, their hearts eternally intertwined, and nothing would ever break their bond.

Except, maybe his phone...

* * *

Stupid, stupid, stupid interruptions! If she didn't have any self-control, she would have smashed that annoying phone to bits! Something always interrupted them at their sweetest moments, and she was getting sick of it!

Whitney glared at him as if to say, "Answer it, and you're dead."

And he would be.

"Sorry," he mouthed, and plucked out the phone. But, before he got to answer, she snatched it from his grasp. "Okay, give it back." he insisted, reaching out for the phone, and in response, she moved her hand away.

"Nope. If they won't stop, then neither will I. And, you're busy at the moment." her persistence revealed itself through her defiant tone as she held the mobile out of his reach.

"Whitney-"

"Hello?" she answered, "Oh, hi, Rhodey."

"Just lemme answer the-"

"Well, he can't come to the phone right now, he's a little busy. Maybe later?"

"Aw, come on, sweetheart, hand it over."

"Why don't I tell him to call you back, does that work?"

"I'm right here!"

"Great. Mm-hmm, bye." she turned off the phone with a press of her finger, "I'm tired of all the interruptions, Tony. I just want to be alone with you, that's all. Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad, but was it anything...important?"

"You're supposed to be home for dinner by seven, clean your room, and make sure you've done all your homework. Is that important?"

"Not what I was getting at, so...it can wait. And I have some ideas on how to spend our alone time."

"Really? And what would that be?"

"This." Tony placed a hand on the back of her neck, and lightly pushed her head forward.

She was kissed with pure affection; his lips cherished hers with every slight movement. When he pulled back, she was still lost in a sea of euphoria, and in her love-drunk haze, she moved forward, attempting to recapture his lips, and meld them together with hers. With her eyes still closed, she missed, and her lips pressed on the side of his mouth instead. But she didn't care. A kiss was a kiss. She let her head fall onto his shoulder, and he held her, whispering sweet things into her ear. About how beautiful she was. _Not anymore._ How soft her hair was. _Who was he kidding?_ And how her eyes were like...like, stars...shining stars. _They were nothing of the sort._

As the compliments increased, a solitary tear ran down her face. He was professing his love for her in his gentle, caring manner, and she couldn't take it, being called "beautiful," and "kind." It wasn't true. She wasn't any of those things. She was ugly. Ugly, and cruel. All those scars...there were so many of them.

He nestled into her neck, and muttered, "You're perfect."

And that was all it took.

She got up as quickly as she could, and ran away, tears streaming down her face as she dashed up the stairs...

Whitney stared into her bathroom mirror, trying in vain to understand why. Just why. Why would he call her beautiful? Heck, why did he even love her, hold her, and kiss her like he did downstairs? Why did she even invite him over! She wasn't good enough for him, she never was, and especially now. _Broken toys need to be thrown away._ She didn't deserve his kindness, or care, she didn't deserve him at all. _She didn't deserve anything._ Sweeping back strands of her straightened hair, she gazed into the glass, and tucked the tendrils behind her ear to get a better look at the mark on her cheek. _That_ mark. Her eyes misting over, she brushed several fingers over the scar, and the memory of how it got there replayed in her mind.

A tremor started in her left hand, and she clutched it, holding it to her chest as a few tears spilled over onto her flushed cheeks. Why did this have to hurt so much? She deserved it. Her pain was supposed to be over, done with, she was supposed to be free...but she was still his "pet." Still his toy. Still manipulated by him. Tony made it better though, he made everything better, but on this Saturday afternoon, even the love of her life could not prevent his words from infiltrating her soul. _Because she would never get away from him._

A tender hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, spinning around to face whoever was there.

It wasn't him.

Her love's eyes seemed concerned as they searched over her face. "Are you okay?" Tony inquired as he wiped away the tears, brushing his fingers over her cheeks. He was so gentle.

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"Then just leave me alone!"

"You don't want to be alone, or you wouldn't've come up here."

"How do you know what I want?"

"Because, I know you."

The sensitive, hurt look in his eyes startled her out of her self-protective state. She didn't want to hurt him, she just didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want him to worry about her. She didn't deserve that.

"I'm sorry." she apologized, shyly gazing up into his eyes.

He took her into his arms, "You should feel like this, and I would be worried if you weren't. You're trying to process what happened, and put it behind you, that's all. It's going to be a while before it goes away." he whispered into her ear, holding her close.

She pulled back to look into his eyes, "B-but you're not going to leave me, right?"

"I don't have a reason to." his gentle hand pressed against her cheek, "and you're still beautiful."

"How?"

"Certain ways. That don't have anything to do with how you look, so quit with the mirror stuff."

With a slight smile, she swept a hand through his dark hair, silently thanking him with her light touch. "I have something for you." her voice was low and soft, with admiration seeping through its tone.

Whitney then grasped his hands, and walked backwards as she pulled him into her room. She let go of his hands, and he gave her a curious look as she picked up the jar on her dresser. Her letter jar.

"I wanted to wait for this, until next week, but I want you to have it now. I wrote these when I fell in love with you." they locked eyes as he took her gift,

"Thanks," he stared at the glass object in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the lid, appearing lost in its intricacy.

"But, promise that you won't read them until our anniversary. They're special."

"Sure, I promise."

She placed her hands on the top of her letter container, "My heart's in these letters, Tony. They're, personal, and you're gonna find out some things."

"What kind of things?"

"How much I love you."

"I'll take good care of it then." his eyes caught the tiny black nose of her stuffed dog on a shelf above her bed, "Hey, you found that stuffed animal!"

"Dad found it." she plopped down on the mattress, lying on her back.

"He did? That's great." his enthusiasm diminished, and his eyes glanced to the floor. "You loved that guy when we were little."

"I love you more." Whitney sang as she rolled over to her stomach, and placed her head in her hands.

A smirk played at his lips. "You don't let me forget."

Her own eyes glanced to the floor for a brief second before returning upward to meet his gaze. "Tony, do you think I'm boring?" she asked, pulling herself up to a sitting position.

Confusion crossed his eyes for a moment. "No way. You're the single most interesting girl in all of New York."

"No, I meant," she cleared her throat, and closed her eyes, "romantically."

She could have sworn that her cheeks turned more than a dozen shades of red while she was waiting for all eternity for an answer.

Whitney felt a rather clammy hand clutch hers, and she cracked her eyes open to see Tony sitting beside her. "You aren't boring, trust me, you're just worth waiting for." she smiled at his words, using her unoccupied hand to sweep a few strands of loose hair behind her ear.

He gave her a warm smile before letting go of her hand, scooting back towards the pillows, and motioning for her to come closer. She raised a thin eyebrow, and rested her head on a closed fist, not moving. "Aw, come on," he said, attempting to persuade her. "You're like a teddy bear, you were made for snuggling."

"That's a nice thought, but is it okay for us to, you know, cuddle on my bed? And didn't we just talk about this?"

"I just want to hold you, that's it. These hands aren't going to 'wander' anywhere."

"You're sweet, but..."

"I know, I know, boundaries."

"Thank you. We can go downstairs and watch a movie though. But you have to work the T.V, I'm officially banned from it."

"Then can I hold you?"

"Sure, why not?"

The couple spent a few more hours together, their date drifting on into the evening, talking and watching a movie. Snippets of a movie. Occasional kisses tend to distract a person from the screen. That afternoon became something Whitney hadn't thought they'd ever do in their twelve months of their being together. Tony had put his arm around her, in _her_ house. It was as if, everything, was alright. If only just for those hours.

Still acting out of habit, all they conversed about their relationship, and how their past week went. She made sure of that. She frequently steered the conversation away from anything even somewhat related to her previous "experiences," the bathroom episode, her upcoming court appearance...or her strangely absent father. The lovers parted that evening with a kiss, (perhaps two if the one Tony sneaked in at the doorway counted) and after that, everything became a blur for the girl in love. Limitless love. As she fell back on her bed, with those pesky guards outside her door, all she could think about was the marvelous time together that they shared.

And the man, her tormentor, was nowhere to be heard...

* * *

Tony's mind wandered all over the place as he worked in the armory.

But mostly to his girlfriend.

He remembered how her lips tasted just like honey, and chocolate. How her soft hair blended with the sunlight streaming in from her bedroom window...she shouldn't be allowed to stand there, in front of that light, she looked too beautiful. It glowed around her, lined her features, shone through her hair, and accentuated her entire body. She looked like a star, an angel, simply gorgeous. Just thinking about that shine made him want to hold her again, and tell her how incredible she looked...

Tell her that he wanted to marry her.

Hopefully, sometime in the near-distant future, he would slide a wedding band on her delicate finger, and have the girl he loved for the rest of his days. He would wake up next to her, live with her, have a family with her, be everything she needed, and that's all he'd ever need. Sure, it might not have been what most guys at his age wanted from a girl, but after all, he was different. She was different, too. Beautifully different...

A lovesick sigh escaped his lips, and he put his head in his hands, his eyes staring off into the air, focusing on nothing in particular.

He didn't realize how long he was absent until someone waved a hand in front of his face. "Tony, are you in there? Hey, dude, snap out of it." Rhodey said, snapping his fingers.

His eyes shot up to look at his friend, "Huh, what?"

"You are so lost, aren't you?" his best friend raised an eyebrow, noticeably concealing a grin.

"Lost? Me? No, nope, just...concentrating."

"You were dazed for over seven minutes."

"Yeah, sorry."

"So, how'd it go?"

"Huh? Oh, right, Whitney...we, uh, talked for a while." Tony switched his gaze back to the Iron Man armor on the metallic table, hoping that his friend would disengage the conversation.

But, he didn't.

That grin slightly revealed itself, "Is that how you got lipstick on your cheek?"

His eyes widening, he scraped a finger across his cheek, the spot where she kissed him, and sure enough, a trace of her pink lipstick appeared on his knuckle.

"I have no idea how that got there." he defended, his nervousness giving him away.

"Riiight. You know I like to tease you." Rhodey playfully punched him in the arm. "It's what friends do."

"Kinda cruel."

"It's lots of fun though."

With a good-natured shake of his head, and a smile, he thoroughly scrutinized his repair work, and after a few minor adjustments, he was finally satisfied with the results.

"Alright, I'm gonna head off to bed." he said with a sigh, scanning over the armor again.

Rhodey's eyes comically widened, "Somebody call a doctor."

"Ha, ha, very funny. I've got an anniversary tomorrow, and Whitney might not talk to me for a week if I missed this one. And I really want to stay on solid ground with her, you know? When she gets mad...not good."

"Hey," he placed a hand on his shoulder, "good luck."

"Good luck with what?"

"I found a box on your nightstand."

Tony's face turned pale.

How could he have been so careless? Only Roberta knew, and he was planning on keeping that way until he actually _did_ propose to her. Now two secrets slipped past him. He was officially a dead man.

"So, I just assumed...it was supposed to be a secret, wasn't it? Now I'm walking in on people, and objects. I'm sorry, man, it's a bad habit. I swear I won't tell."

"Nah, it's okay, it's fine. Fine. Perfectly fine." his voice cracked, giving off a slight squeak near the end.

"I've gotta stop doing that." Rhodey muttered under his breath,

"I'll remember to keep it in the drawer. In the drawer." he continued to repeated the words like a mantra inside his mind to help him remember as he and Rhodey walked out of the armory.

He also silently rehearsing the night in his head. He had to make it memorable, sweet, something she'd cherish for years and years. He needed that night to be perfect, so they would remember it, but what in the world was he supposed to tell her?

_I love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you._ No, overused, not enough emotion. _Whitney, we've known each other for over twelve years now._ Definitely not, bad way to start it off, very bad. _Most guys my age don't really think about this sort of thing, but I have, and I think this is right._ While undoubtedly true, that line was not very memorable...

_I had a little trouble with finding the right one. I want you to look at this ring, and remember this night every day. I want to make you happy, Whitney, that's all I've ever wanted to do. I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure you'll never regret it if you choose to be my wife._

Perfect.

* * *

Whitney sat down at the kitchen table, the time being past midnight, sipping at a glass of warm milk with a photo album in front of her, opened to the pictures of her seemingly distant childhood. Her therapist said it might help to rediscover her years of innocence. Since they, as well, were cruelly ripped away from her.

She and Tony were always getting into things when they were little, such as _certain_ vases a _certain_ mother was particularly fond of, (which was not her fault) any puddle of water or dirty substance they could find, and the counter in the kitchen on which they could find all sorts of delicious goodies they were not supposed to have. Like cookies, brownies, and fudge, but mostly cookies, especially the chocolate chip ones.

They were only caught a handful of times, but they often wondered if she, Maria, let them get away with it. Of course, during their younger years, Tony's mother knew everything. In her mind, she still did, even if she wasn't with her.

All the time she spent the past few months with her mother unfortunately did not compare to the precious and rather mischievous years she was given with Maria. Her feelings were mixed; she thoroughly enjoyed being with her biological mother again, but, she wished that she was still an innocent young girl. She wasn't impeccant anymore; she knew that people could do worse things than yell at her. Now, she knew, some people were vicious, cruel, and ruthless. Not like back then. Not like when she played in the rain, getting soaked for no reason, or fell off trees, being a silly little girl.

If only…

Sobs wracked the teenager's body as she buried her face in her hands, completely swept away by a tidal wave of emotion. All she wanted was to go back to those days, those beautiful, immaculate days where the only thing she had to worry about was what toys she was going to play with, instead of this, instead of dealing with the aftermath of being targeted by a psychopathic, and severely disturbed, maniac.

Her ears became hyper-sensitive as thoughts of that week flooded into her mind. Every creak, whine, or slam in the house did not go past her senses, and her pulse raced as they seemed to get louder and louder. The noises closed in until there was no room to breathe, and somewhere inside the ensemble of sounds, she heard his voice. She heard it. She heard him. It was here, he was here, she knew he was.

She gripped the table, tediously stood up from her chair, and moved along its edges, her head tossing from side to side, scoping out the room. A burst of frigid air brushed up against her back, and she covered her mouth to silence her scream of terror, turning around.

She had to calm herself! The voice wasn't real, she was home, she was safe.

She was brave.

Whitney sucked in a deep breath, and held it in her chest while closing her eyes, and counting to ten. Once her countdown was finished, she blew out the air...and the noises were gone. With wobbling legs, she put away the precious photo album, grabbed her glass of milk, and walked up the stairs to her room.

If Tony called her brave, then she would be brave, and if her love said she was beautiful...

Then she was the most stunning girl in the universe.

* * *

Tony almost went back to sleep that morning, but he soon remembered what day it was.

Their anniversary.

Feeling unusually excited, he remembered her present, and reached under his bed for the letter jar. He had to hide it from himself so not to be tempted. He didn't want to break his promise. Once he found it, he picked it up, and placed the object in his lap, completely prepared for whatever was in the letters. He unscrewed the lid, and plucked out the paper on the top, thinking it was the one she wanted him to read first.

And he was right.

The letter read:

To my love,

If you're reading this, it means that we've been together for a year. A whole year, and you still haven't left me. I wrote all of these letters for you, hoping that someday you might get to read them. These letters tell you one thing: I love you. I love you in ways that I can't even begin to describe on paper. I feel like I'm floating whenever I'm with you. You're so sweet to me. You make me feel safe, loved, and extremely happy, but those words aren't strong enough. I love you so much, and I hope this marks the start of many more wonderful years.

Forever yours,

Whitney.

Forever yours...

A smile graced his features as he held the letter in his hands, the gentle calligraphy becoming the most beautiful thing in the world. Next to her. She said she had written these just for him...just for him...it made his chest swell with happiness, she cared enough to write something to him, even when she wasn't sure he would ever read it. She was nice like that.

After screwing back on the lid, and putting down the jar, he stared at her picture for a while, a frame sitting on his nightstand, the very first photo of her he was able to possess. What he wouldn't do to keep his girl safe, to erase all of the horror, to take her away from it all. To make her forget.

While certain unconventional methods slipped into the inventor's mind, he pulled out his nightstand's drawer, and took out the black velvet box that would change their entire outlook on their relationship. Smiling, he opened the tiny container, and carefully plucked out the diamond ring, silently rehearsing the lines he would use in his proposal.

"Mrs. Whitney Stark," he mumbled, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his major decision.

This was huge; if he married her, it would without a doubt be for a lifetime. Not like he'd want to let her go. He was completely sure of himself, he had found his soul mate, he just knew it. The feelings, and emotions surging through his chest weren't some teenage infatuation, or hormonal attraction, they were real, painfully real. They hurt. Physically hurt. Wasn't that what love, real love, was supposed to feel like? Like you can't control yourself, like you needed that other person?

Well, he needed her, the past months were a sure sign of that.

He checked over the small ring one last time before sliding it into the safety of its box, and putting it back in the drawer. Once he straightened out, his eyes once again fell on the example of timeless beauty, and grace sitting on his nightstand. Her exquisite picture.

In a year, two years, five years, ten years, it didn't matter, he wouldn't have to keep a picture. He would have her, the living girl, right beside him every night before he fell asleep. He would actually feel the creaminess of her skin while curling up in bed with her, hold her in his arms late at night, kiss her gently with the lights turned off, and give her a life she so rightfully deserved.

And to him, she deserved much more than he could ever give.

He was about to reach down for the jar to read another letter, when all of a sudden, his bedroom door flew open, and Rhodey appeared in the archway, panting as if he had run several miles.

"Tony, it's the guy." he burst, "it's that Walsh guy. He's out. He got out."

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, in case any of you were wondering, this story is close to the finale. I will be so sad when I have to let this story go, but, other ideas await, and I have the rest of the story all planned out already. And, we're at chapter sixteen, so I think it's almost time to let go, don't you?

Anyway, tell me what you think, because I love hearing thoughts about my stories, be it good or bad.


	17. Chapter 17: Splitting the Rainbow

Tony couldn't believe his ears.

He blinked his eyes two times before he fully grasped the meaning of the words; the guy who ruined his girlfriend's life, and his own, was at large. Free to cause havoc. Free to destroy anything.

Free to hurt Whitney...

Nearly flying off the bed, he yelled, "You can't be serious, it's, he's, that's impossible! It's one of the top prisons in the country!"

Rhodey placed his hands up in a surrender position. "We can handle this."

No, they couldn't, or at least he couldn't. _He_ let the man ruin her life, _he_ walked out on her, _he_ was the one to blame.

Tony's eyes grew dark, and fearful, his shoulders sagging. "He's gonna go after Whitney."

"But you can stop him. Just because he got to her once, doesn't mean it's going to happen again."

When pigs fly. He couldn't do anything right, not even save his girlfriend! Whitney was his entire world, and he let her down. What kind of a hero was he?

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Hey, man, we can do this."

He let out a small sigh, turning to his friend. "I should go over there, see how she's doing." his eyes stared straight through Rhodey to the door.

"She's with her class, remember? It's Sunday."

"But I should go over there, right? It's still our anniversary, she'd think something was up if I didn't show."

"She might get suspicious if you hang around her too much."

Running shaky fingers through his hair, Tony broke his steady gaze on his friend, and turned his eyes to the carpet. "You're right. Man, what am I going to do?"

"We could call Pepper. She got us into the database the first time...before the FBI classified...the whole, thing...for the trial..." his best friend's voice trailed away as he shuffled a foot. "Bad idea."

"Great. This is great." his sarcastic side prevailed as he paced around the room, clenching and unclenching his hand.

"Dude, quit the pacing, you're making me nervous."

"She's gonna be a mess."

"And you aren't?"

His friend's sudden question startled him, making the teen stop dead in his tracks. "What?"

"You're as nervous as she is, will be, might be. Just go help her out."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that. Hey, Rhodey, how'd you find out?"

"News. Mom's talking with the police now."

"Right. Thanks."

Rhodey shot him a sympathetic glance before closing the door, giving him his privacy. Pulling his typical red t-shirt on, Tony thought of ways he could make this day even more special; maybe he would buy her daisies. She liked flowers. He would visit her in that nursery of hers, where she was probably located. That would make her happy, wouldn't it?

Breathing sharply, he pulled out the nightstand drawer, and dug around to the bottom where he found the little black velvet box. He fumbled slightly to get it open, and checked the contents one last time before closing the lid, and placing it delicately in his pocket. He would try and make this the best day of her life.

He would try and make her forget...

* * *

A satisfied smile etched into Dalton's face. The voices were pleased with his escape, and now, he was free to do what they loved.

A giddy feeling entered the man's chest as he inserted .45 caliber bullets inside his pistol, to ease the kidnapping of his pet. The voices wanted to see her; scared, shivering, they liked it. He chose a spot close to the church, hidden away in a recently abandoned office building, where he could watch her through the window as she walked down the sidewalk. Which, if the clock on the wall was correct, she would be arriving about now.

Taking a break from his gun, he looked into the window, carefully observing her; the black dress she wore showed off those long, toned legs of hers, and he licked his lips as she strode to the doors, the skirt resting just above her knees. They must have healed nicely, or she wouldn't be wearing such a dress.

Her light hair appeared much different from when he had her, it wasn't combed, and terribly dirty. Not like now. The gentle waves cascaded down her shoulders, and she delicately brushed several strands of the glimmering locks behind her ear, tilting her head ever so slightly before those two guards whisked her inside the building. She had such an innocent face. Still worth breaking.

With a grin displaying his yellowing teeth, he returned to his pistol. This was it. He would knock off those two guards, take his pet, and finally break her.

Finally...

* * *

Whitney shot a glare towards the two nuisances by the door; all they were doing was disrupting the nursery, and frightening the children. Her six-year-olds wouldn't even go near them! Narrowing her eyes, she nodded her head sideways towards the wooden entryway, and they got the hint, opening the knob and swiftly retreating out the door.

With a slight eye-roll, she fixed her rumpled skirt, smoothing it over, and crossing her legs. A slight tugging on her dress made her look to the side, where she found the dark-haired Casey staring up at her.

Smiling, she got up off the chair, and knelt down to her level. "What's the matter?"

"Are you still sick, Miss Whitney?" the little girl asked, her brown eyes sunken.

"No. Why'd you ask?"

"Because whenever I'm sick, Momma says I get black circles under my eyes. The same ones you got."

"I'm just tired, that's all." she gave a light shrug, then glanced around the room, leaning in towards the child. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Yeah! I mean," her eyes darted around before she whispered, "yeah."

"Today's very special because somebody I love very much is taking me out for dinner tonight. I'm really excited."

"Do you love me very much, too?"

"Of course I do," she hugged the seven-year-old briefly before giving a light push to her back. "Now go on and play."

Casey gave her one more tight hug before running off to join the other two girls in the corner. Standing upright again, she smiled at the happy group of children that she felt were her own, but despite her feelings, those little darlings belonged to some very lucky couples. Could she and Tony possibly be as happy as them?

Lost in the children's laughter, she imagined what it would be like to have her own. To give birth to something so precious, and innocent, that came from two people loving each other. A little boy or girl for them to raise, together, a child they could love.

She thought about the prospect of having children, her eyes emitting a sparkle as she watched the kids run around the room. But she didn't want to share the joy of a child with just anyone, no, she wanted to share that glee with a certain special someone. A special someone with messy black hair, and electric blue eyes.

Marrying Tony Stark would be the greatest decision of her life.

If the frequent, but not so subtle, hints she gave weren't enough to convince him of her wishes, then she was going to assume he wasn't serious about their relationship. She loved Tony, and she would never love another like she did him, but she wasn't going to live in a dusty, old house with fifty cats for the rest of her life. She didn't even like cats! If anything were to make her whole again, it would be becoming his wife, and him her husband. Forever together. That, in her mind, would be the most incredible, beautiful, wonderful thing in the world.

On second thought, she would wait for him no matter what. Marrying, or loving, anyone else seemed like she would be betraying their love. She couldn't do that. If, by some devastating event, that he finally got the sense enough to leave her, long after he went, she would still love him. No one else would ever replace her first love. Her only love.

"Excuse me, but I believe you and I have an anniversary today."

Her eyes widened as Tony's voice sounded from behind her. Spinning around, she nearly exploded in a fit of laughter as he caught her in a tight embrace, with a bouquet of daisies in one hand.

"You got me flowers!" she gratefully accepted the bunch of daisies, "Oh, Tony, they're beautiful, thank you! And I didn't get you anything, I'm-"

"The letters were great, Whitney. More than enough." he placed a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled, her skin feeling as if a bunch of ants were crawling over it.

"Hey, mister." she heard Dorothy's voice as a small hand tugged on her lover's shirt.

Tony gave the little girl a smile, and knelt to meet her eyes. "Well, hello there."

"Are you gonna take Miss Whitney away from us?" Dorothy asked, staring at Tony accusingly, her amber eyes narrowed like she was examining him.

Whitney stifled a laugh as her boyfriend shifted his gaze between each of the gathering children. "Um, you...you could say that." he answered, his eyes resting on bold Dorothy.

"I remember you, you were with Miss Whitney when she was sick!" Peter exclaimed, pointing a tiny finger at him. The little boy turned around to face his friends, who were still scrutinizing her boyfriend, "He's good, fellas."

Casey stepped up, "You be really good to Miss Whitney, she's nice."

"Yeah, she is. Do you mind if I take her with me?"

"Promise you'll bring her back?"

"Promise."

"Okay, you can."

"Thank you." Tony smiled as Casey hugged him, and the entire troupe followed suit. A warm smile flashed across her face; one day, if she would be so lucky, their own child would hug him just like that.

After the hugs finished, Tony rose up, and took her hand (the one unoccupied by her lovely arrangement of daisies), and gently squeezed it, indicating their departure.

The class stared at them, their eyes innocent, and sparkling as the couple walked out together. "I'll see you all next week, okay? Be good!" Whitney shouted back at them, and they all waved erratically.

The guards were waiting right outside the door, and fell into step directly behind them, staying much too close. If only her father wasn't so paranoid. Tony kept glancing over his shoulder, as if he didn't trust them, but she dismissed it, he was just nervous. Which made him all the more adorable. The main hallway was virtually deserted as they walked to the front, her heels clicking on the smooth, stone tiles, the sound echoing throughout the seemingly hollow room. In an attempt to make him more comfortable, Whitney flashed him a wide smile, and laid her head on his shoulder for a moment before they strolled out of the double doors, and exited the church, her guards not far behind.

"Uh, Whitney?" Tony said, the hand holding hers becoming sweaty.

"Hmm?" she turned to meet his eyes with a smile,

"You...you really, want, a child, don't you?"

"Definitely. But not until I'm married, Daddy would have me strung up by my toes."

Tony smiled, and brushed back a wave of her hair, stopping their walk, and leaning in for a kiss. Until those two pests interrupted them by coming in too close.

Her boyfriend sighed impatiently. "Can you please call off Brutus and Titus?"

"Sure. Guys, you mind? Anniversary."

The two guards exchanged a look, then nodded, conceding to their wishes. They silently moved back, and blended with the crowd, disappearing from view.

"Thanks. They were starting to freak me out." Tony gave her hand a light squeeze, and they continued strolling down the path together. But, oddly, her sweetheart seemed distracted.

And she had no idea why...

* * *

Tony slipped his hand to the small of her back, and glanced around the skyline once more.

He was being paranoid.

She kept on walking with him though, despite his lingering paranoia, and his obvious distraction. She was so patient, and blissfully unaware. He soon found out that they hadn't told her anything, they left her in the dark about her kidnapper. Understandable, she was -or at least she seemed to be- finally returning to normal. He would keep her close, be watchful, make sure she had a wonderful time, and hopefully everything would turn out perfectly. And perhaps by the end of the day they wouldn't just be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore...

Whitney's voice filled his ears, bringing him back down to earth. "I need to buy a vase _just_ for these flowers," she closed her eyes, smelling the bouquet. "They're wonderful, Tony." those eyes gazed into his, and his heart melted.

"They're yours. They have to be wonderful." he pulled her even closer as more people arrived on the sidewalk, but gave her a warm smile.

"Was that a line?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow as she turned his wrist over with her free hand, checking the time on his watch. Flirting, was she?

In Whitney's book, flirting meant "talk to me." This anniversary date thing was quickly becoming something Tony didn't really excel at. Having a relationship was hard, even if he was the happiest guy in the world, love still sucked. Why? Because girls were way too complicated, especially the ever-changing mind of a Whitney Stane. She could be impossible to understand, but he adored her, and that was it.

He released a quiet chuckle. "Might've been." he glanced around before gently pulling her into a deserted alley. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Her smile made his stomach do flip-flops. "Only to you." she said, her steady finger trailing across his jawline.

"No, I mean to everyone," he cupped her cheeks. "I'm proud of you."

She took a shaky breath. "That means so much."

"It's true. You're...you're like an angel. To-to me. You're my angel, and I don't think I could've lived without you."

With a slight tilt of her head, he was on a string, ready to do anything, and everything she wanted. Her eyes did it every time. How was it that she always made him melt with those beautiful orbs? They seemed so intense, yet gentle, and affectionate. He would never get tired of them; waking up to them, falling asleep to them. They conveyed her every emotion, and he simply adored them. He adored every detail about her so much it was intoxicating. As she placed her flowers on a nearby abandoned table, and slid her arms around his shoulders, his mouth flooded with moisture, and he swallowed hard to get rid of the excess liquid.

"Whitney, I-uh, have something to ask you." he muttered, a sudden chill entering his limbs.

Her softened finger pressed against his lips, and he swallowed hard again. "You're so sweet to me. Happy anniversary, darling." she whispered, pressing her forehead to his, and all coherent thought escaped his mind.

He swiftly regained his composure, and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close, lost in a beautiful moment. "Happy anniversary." he said lowly, a tingling sensation taking over his body.

Tilting his head, he let their lips touch, and an almost electric feeling stormed through his nerves. An entire year, and he still felt faint when he kissed her. Their arms tightened around each other, and all he thought about was her; the delicate texture of her lips, the softness of her skin, and the way her kiss made his knees grow weak. This wasn't one of their short, "I love you," pecks. This was a tender, passionate, full-on, kiss. In fact, the very epitome of a kiss. Why couldn't everything be like this moment, perfect? Why did his girl have to suffer so much? One thing he had all figured out, though: he was going to fix it. She deserved peace, love and happiness, and he was going to shower her with all the serenity, affection, and joy, in the world.

But, unbeknownst to them, an emerald-eyed monster was lurking in the shadows...

* * *

Dalton couldn't keep the voices quiet, they were too excited, buzzing with ideas about what he should do to her. But he wanted them both; he never had a couple before, it would be a great experiment. However, the voices didn't want it that way, and he would meekly comply.

Maybe.

They would see it his way eventually, they usually did. He was the intelligent one, he was in charge...most of the time. The voices were controlling, yes, but they had splendid ideas. Simply marvelous. He couldn't get by without their input, they were a part of him, and he of them.

Walsh crept closer and closer, nearing his pet and her whatchamacallit. "Boyfriend." Rolling his eyes at the sight of their lip-lock, he pulled out his loaded pistol, and clicked off the safety, a sadistic smirk playing at his extremely broken lips.

Emerging from the darkness with the gun at his side, he spoke, "Adorable. And disgusting. Don't you children have something better to do?"

The couple immediately broke the kiss, and spun to face him. His pulse raced as the girl stared at him in horror, her eyes wide, and chest heaving. Just how they liked it. The other one, the boy, now he was not frightened. Disappointing. He was losing his touch. This Tony person grabbed her arm, and forced her behind him, glaring as if he could appear intimidating. Sad, and pathetic.

"No..." his pet spoke from behind the boy, "no, you're-"

"In jail? How naïve." his voice was lined with pure malice as he stepped closer, trigger finger ready.

Tony pushed her back even further, and stared him down. "Take one more step and I swear I will kill you. Where. You. Stand."

"Remember the first time we had the unfortunate luck of meeting? You just don't have it in you, Stark. I, however..."

"I have guards!" Whitney squeaked, her hands placed firmly on Tony's shoulders.

"And my precious pet speaks. You mean the guards on, excuse me, _were_ on 32nd street?" Walsh switched his intimidating gaze to the boy, "I know your secret. Is it worth her life? Would you give her up?"

The man saw the boy's fists clench. "You wanna know the answer?"

Immediately after the boy uttered those words, he tackled him...

* * *

Tony lunged for the man, knocking him down, and making the pistol fly from his hands.

"Tony!" he heard Whitney shout behind him, but he was too focused on the fight, he had to protect her.

He was her knight.

Executing a well-aimed punch, he right crossed the man straight in the eye, giving him another black mark. Dodging one of Walsh's punches, he slammed a fist into his stomach, sending him back at least a few inches. The man tried to run toward her, and Tony clutched his collar, and swung him around into a waiting punch, knocking him in the cheek. This was almost too easy.

"Run, Whitney, now!" he continued blocking the man, ceasing his attempts to advance toward her.

He couldn't see her, that's what scared him, he didn't hear her footsteps. She had to run. Why wasn't she running?

"St-stop, or I'll-I'll shoot!"

Whitney.

No, it couldn't be, she needed to run, she had to get away. She couldn't get caught up in this. He had to protect her. Tony found an opening, and swiped Walsh's legs from underneath him with his arm, sending the man to the cement with a loud thump. When he turned over onto his stomach, Tony swiftly pinned him down, pressing a firm knee into his spine, and grabbing both his hands, holding them behind his back.

"Go!" Tony shouted as he held the man down. "Get out of here, now!"

"I would listen to him, pet." the man grunted as Tony pushed his face down harder into the cement. "We wouldn't want you to see your darling get hurt, now would we?"

Dizziness took hold of his head as he realized the extent of the man's warning. Walsh had to be faking it; he was too strong, much too strong for him. It was a fake, a rouge, she had to get out of here before it was too late!

But they were already out of time.

The man released himself from his grip, flipped over, and punched Tony square in the jaw. With another punch from Walsh, he shot upright in a flash, red liquid trickling from his split lip. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Whitney raise a pistol, and aim the gun for Walsh's head, with obvious intend for murder. Why wasn't she running?

"Whitney, now would be a really great time for you to leave!" Tony shouted, cleverly executing punches and kicks, which were all blocked. Every last one of them. He couldn't keep this up much longer, she had to get away.

But she wasn't leaving, she was frozen, the nightmare that had reoccurred in his mind was being realized. Whitney didn't get away in time...he let her down...he let his world down.

His heart plummeting into his stomach, he saw her pull back the hammer, and prepare to fire, when Walsh grasped his wrist, and pulled him in front, using him to prevent her from shooting. That cheap, dirty, monster. He tried kicking out the man's legs, but his efforts came to no fruition, only pain as Walsh twisted his wrist, and pressed a large arm against his neck, choking him with an elbow.

"You wouldn't shoot him, would you, deary?" Walsh taunted, that arm pushing against his airway harder, making him sputter.

Unable to move, Tony felt helpless as his girl stared at him with sunken eyes, admitting defeat. She couldn't give up now! He couldn't let her go back, he couldn't let the man take her again, because the chance of him finding her a second time were even slimmer. He couldn't let her live like that, as a "toy" for that creep to play with. She deserved to be happy after everything she'd gone through over her years.

The abuse, the heartbreak, the abandonment, it made his heart ache for her. He couldn't let his love go back to that state of despair, it was too dark, too alone. He knew what that meant, alone, he knew what it felt like. No one understood you when you were alone, no one even cared, and no one ever will. The whole world moved on, and left you behind because you were too weak to continue on with it. You didn't want to feel anymore when you were alone, you didn't want to be hurt again, all you wanted was freedom. Freedom from every emotion. Because it was emotion that forced you into that dark spot in the first place.

His world shattered like glass that day, and he swore never to return to the dark place he entered once the shock set in. He swore never to let his Whitney down the day she pieced his world back together, made him whole, and set everything right. She became his world. He didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered except the girl with corn-silk hair, and sapphire eyes.

And that's why he had to protect her.

Love was a powerful motivator.

Tony scratched at Walsh's arm with his free hand. "I will put my hands around your throat, and strangle you. Then, I'll blast your sorry little hide into so many pieces, they won't be able to tell you apart from bread crumbs!" he threatened the man, but in his protective haze he didn't realize what he was saying.

"Ooh, we're getting mad, aren't we?" Walsh teased. "You led her straight to me, Stark. I was right here, waiting for my beautiful pet, and you led her to me. Led her for me to take."

"Shut up!"

"If you hadn't brought her here, she would be safe, but now...does it hurt to know that she's going to die?"

It didn't hurt, it burned. An excruciating fire settled in his stomach, and it burned into his soul until there was nothing left except a sliver. A sliver of her love. He would do anything, absolutely anything for his girl, even give up his life for her. If there was any chance of it at all, he would take her far away from this miserable town, but right now, she was in danger. He knew what had to be done.

"Take me too." he choked out, saying the words as best he could.

He saw Whitney's eyes go wide. "Tony, don't, please!"

"Perfect." Walsh released his grip, and he closed his eyes, waiting.

A sharp, rough pain surged through his head from some type of impact with a blunt object, and everything became fuzzy, and dark.

And the very last thing he heard was the sound of Whitney's shrill scream before everything faded to black...

* * *

**A/N:** I have no idea what I just wrote...

This chapter was just thrown together, and I'm not very proud of it, but since Fanfiction is supposed to be for fun, I'll just write, and forget about all the rules from here on out. Anyway, what do you all think might happen? After all, I do write tragedies from time to time...*insert evil cackling here*


	18. Chapter 18: Despondence

A/N: So, bad news, the keyboard on my laptop is being a jerk, and until I can fix it, typing on it is virtually impossible. And because of that, I am bringing you the next chapter of Shattered Glass on my iPod thingy. That's my excuse for this...I don't know what this is, looks like a bunch of words to me, so I'll call it "Bob."

A bit of ill-placed, terrible humor before I send you off into Tony and Whitney's depressed little world. Although, I did try to add a tiny bit of comic relief. Ah, but I'm bad at that, too.

But, I tell you the truth, my keyboard_ is_ broken, and this chapter's nickname _is_ Bob. I'll call the next one Stewart, just to be fair.

On with it, then?

* * *

Obadiah Stane had that old feeling fluttering about in his chest.

Fatherly instinct.

He just knew something was wrong; it was a terrible feeling that only happened with his daughter, but this was more intense. Unlike when she ran into end-tables and counters, fell off trees, or ran into a busy street, this instinct burned, throbbed, and made itself well-known in his mind, much more so than when she was a mischievous little girl, and there was a ton of that feeling then.

The fatherly side of him took over, and he began to dial her number on his cell phone, then stopped, something getting in the way of completing the sequence. Thankfully, the communications system on his desk buzzed, indicating a call, and hopefully, it wasn't from the security office. But, of course, it was.

He flicked on the intercom. "Yes, Mr. O'Brian?" he said, shuffling papers in an attempt to keep his hands busy.

_"The guards, the ones you assigned to your daughter? They're...gone, sir."_ his security officer sounded self-conscious over the communications system.

"What do you mean by that?"

_"I mean, we've discovered their bodies, sir. They're deceased. Death by gunshot wound."_

"Where's my daughter? Do they know where she is? Is she okay?" he was frantic now, the papers in his hands being crumpled as his worry increased.

_"We...we don't know."_

He slammed his fists down on the desk, shooting up from his seat, the papers being strewn all over. "Do the job I'm paying you for, or you're fired! Are we clear, O'Brian?"

_"Yes, sir."_

With a shaky sigh, Stane sunk back down into his office chair, and pressed his palms together in a prayer position, bringing them up to his nose as he closed his eyes. Sweet memories of his precious little girl swept across his mind, filling him with the joys and regrets of her childhood. How he wished to make everything right again! Those awful things he told her in his anger, and frustration, he wished he could take them all back. What happened to him, to them? They could have been close, like a normal family. Instead, his grievances trickled down onto her. But at least he had the past to remind him of that immaculate young child that was his baby girl...

_He had that old feeling, a fatherly instinct, and he subconsciously gave in, turning over and opening his eyes to none other than Whitney and her stuffed dog standing over him, just staring._

_Taken aback, he breathed in sharply, forcing himself not to appear startled. "Whitney? Go back to bed, it's late, I have to work in the morning!" he scolded her, but his daughter was not phased._

_Whitney yawned, her tiny mouth opening to its limits as she rubbed her eyes, with her Mousey hanging from one arm. "I had a bad dream, Daddy, can I sleep with you?"_

_"Fine, but stay quiet."_

_She crawled up onto the bed, her dog's ears flopping madly as she snuggled into the sheets, curling up beside him. Releasing a frustrated sigh, he put an arm around her little frame, making sure she didn't fall off. It was a habit of her's, falling off her bed, she was a rather clumsy little girl. And within another minute, they both escaped into the hole of slumber..._

A faint smile etched its way onto his features as he remembered the little girl who had bad dreams, and needed her father. She didn't need him anymore when she was scared; she had Tony Stark. It was inevitable; her being the pretty little thing she was, and them being so close to each other. Was this how other fathers felt after their daughters entered a relationship? But, if Whitney was happy, that was all that mattered.

She would come home in the evenings dancing and singing, spinning around like a child, before skipping up to him for a hug. Never before had he seen her that way, so full of joy, and happiness. If Stark caused her to feel that way, then their relationship could be permissible. He was still trying to get past the fact that she didn't tell him, although, he couldn't blame her.

But he felt like he had to give her up, his baby, like he had to send her away to another man for safe keeping. He couldn't protect her anymore, it wasn't his job, that duty now belonged to Stark, and for his sake, he had better do it right. His daughter was too precious. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would compare to his rage if he found out that Tony hurt her in any way. Whitney could trust someone easily...all it took was a smile, and you had her in your hands, already pliable. You could just as easily make her cry, that he found out the hard way with his constant yelling, and scolding. He shouldn't have yelled at her so much.

Exhaling sharply, the business man returned to his papers, but found himself unable to write anything, since his hand was constantly shivering. He needed to get himself together; she was probably fine. Perfectly fine.

The intercom turned on again, signaling another call, and he hoped this one was good news, but nothing ever was around there.

"Where's Whitney?" he demanded, his tone revealing panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, she's missing." O'Brian informed.

His security officer kept talking, but Stane couldn't hear a thing, he tuned it out. Whitney was his only daughter, only child, the only thing brightening the world around him. He should've been more careful, this could have been avoided, but he made a mistake, and now his baby girl was going to suffer for it...

* * *

Walsh had already taken them to the van; his pet didn't put up much of a fuss. Love-birds. She never took her eyes off him, even though he was absolutely out dead cold. The man hit him hard.

She wasn't even paying attention when he tied her up! His pet wasn't being any fun anymore. No whimpers, none, not even a little mewl! Well, he was going to get her to make a little sound, something to keep the voices quiet. They were distracting; interrupting his driving. So, the man pulled over to a deserted part of the road after driving for over three hours straight, and started to comply with the voices' wishes.

By tormenting his pet.

Smiling, he plucked a hair from her head, making her wince. "Such pretty hair. Does your boyfriend like it this way?" the man dangled the stray piece in front of her face, grimacing when she showed no emotion.

But inside his mind, the voices whispered ways to make her crack. Like being too close.

The man shoved her up against the wall, watching her wince. "Did you miss me? I've missed you. We all have," Walsh grinned to himself as he towered over her, taking her shoulders, and pushing her into the cool metal even further.

"Leave me alone." he heard her sobs, but they weren't screams, the voices wanted her screams.

Dalton clutched both her bound wrists in one hand, with the other clamped down on her equally tied ankles, and raised them above her head. "You and I are going to have so much fun together. I've thought up brand new ways to hurt you. And your friend; Tony, is it? He's going to watch while I shatter you, completely." his pet squirmed as he clutched her forearm, and half-dragged her over to the front, away from her precious Tony, of whom her eyes were firmly locked onto. (And who was beginning to struggle.) Frustrated, he grabbed her jaw, and yanked it around so she would look in his eyes. "Do not forget why I'm taking you both, deary."

Walsh pretended he was going away, but when she wasn't paying attention, he backhanded her across the face with such force that her bottom lip busted. The voices became full of glee at the sight of red liquid oozing from her lip, telling him he did good work. As long as they were pleased. Clenching his fists, the man gave her a solid punch to the stomach, making her sputter. With a satisfied smirk, he left his pet spluttering in the back, going up to the driver's seat to start again.

He was going to enjoy this...

* * *

Pepper and Rhodey, having been lonely and bored due to their friends' anniversary, decided to stay in the armory for a while, and look for any sign of trouble in Tony's absence.

And faster than they could blink, there was a disturbance by the docks. The Maggia again. The pair swiftly decided that the renowned crime syndicate was up to something far more complex than they originally thought, and in response to this dilemma, Pepper had tried to call their friend...and was greeted with no answer.

But, Pepper being Pepper, continued calling anyway.

Pepper tapped her foot as the phone continued ringing for the fifth time. "Tony!" she yelled into the mouthpiece, "Tony, you'd better answer your phone right now or I will kick your butt!"

Rhodey sat in the remote control's chair. "Let him have his fun, Whitney probably turned off his phone anyway." he yawned, the mind-numbing boredom returning.

"Yeah, but...if you don't answer I'll keep texting you! I mean it! He still won't pick up."

"I think he might be a little 'preoccupied.'"

"With wh-oh."

"Yeah."

She snapped her fingers. "Ooh, wait, hold on, can't we track them down or something?"

He placed his head in his hands, and stared at the blinking monitor. "It's their anniversary, they've been through a lot. Leave 'em alone."

"I know, but...I just got a feeling, that's all. You know, the kind you get when something's wrong?" Pepper turned off her phone, hesitantly, before walking up to her friend.

He turned to her with confusion in his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious!" she snapped, startling him. Taking a deep breath to control herself, she began again, "just check, please? I'm starting to get really, really worried about them."

With a light shake of his head, he muttered, "I still think they're okay."

Absolutely frustrated, she gripped her friend's shoulder, and snapped him around, glaring into his eyes with an intensity only a red-head could manage. "Do you wanna be drowned in a bathtub?"

He swallowed. "No."

"Then there," she pointed to the screen, still keeping her deathly gaze. "Check. I think they're in big trouble, Rhodey, really big trouble..."

* * *

Whitney woke up surrounded by gentle arms. It had to be Tony.

She leaned back against his chest, and opened her eyes, immediately viewing her love, who was obviously close to tears.

Tony gazed into her eyes with such sorrow it nearly brought down her defenses. "I'm sorry, Whitney." he combed his fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry, baby, I-"

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. "You tried your best, and that's all I care about. You protected me."

After her words did no damage to her boyfriend's concern-filled walls, she decided to lighten the mood a bit; after all, they got into a ton of kidnappings when they were little, and Tony seemed even more tense than her. She couldn't abandon her role, especially now. He needed her comfort.

Cocking her head, she smoothed out the skirt of her brand new dress. (Which was now ruined.) "You know, I bought this just for our anniversary. It sparkles."

"You look pretty." Tony admired her, running a knuckle up and down her fabric-covered arm.

"And you owe me. You, will take me shopping as soon as we get out of here, and help me find a new dress. Then we can go see a movie, have dinner, maybe go to our spot. It'll be perfect, I'm sure it will, and we'll be happy." she leaned against him, forcing herself to remain calm. For his sake.

"Whitney...I know this is a wrong place for it, but, I-um, have something really important to ask you." his eyes switched emotions; now displaying pure adoration.

"Say anything you want, darling, it's still our anniversary. No matter where we are." she played with his hair, running her fingers through the dark strands.

She heard an audible gulp. "Gosh. You're so wonderful, everything I could ever hope for. I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen, I shouldn't have told you to get rid of them, I just wanted to be alone with you. I'm-"

"Don't. We're gonna be okay. Just...just hold me." she swallowed back the tears as she laid her head on his shoulder, with his comforting arms sliding around her waist, pulling her close.

"Nothing will ever happen to you, Whitney. Nothing will ever, ever hurt you." he whispered, and she immediately relaxed, allowing him to soothe her by whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Soon, with his steady voice still calming her, she fell asleep in his arms, but was quickly awakened by the sound of a door opening-a door that needed a good oiling-and loud footsteps. Walsh. She could place that sound anywhere.

Her head shot upright from its place on her lover's chest, and her heart sped up as she watched Tony's eyes darken from anger. She hated that look, she despised it when those gentle eyes became fierce. He was what she needed...no one would get to her while he held her.

"Tony, please don't. Please don't do anything. I need you." she gripped his shirt with all her strength, tears dripping from her eyes, but he stood up to confront the man anyway.

"Isn't she adorable when she begs like that?" Walsh's voice appeared from behind, causing her to shiver.

Her love still would not face her; his eyes were firmly locked on to the man while he helped her up, and coaxed her behind him. "I'm warning you. Take one step closer, and I'll-"

"You'll what?"

"I'll do this!" Tony clenched a fist, and threw a punch at the man's nose, but he caught his move, and shoved the all-too-familiar device into his stomach. He was waiting for him to attack, and she didn't help him. She didn't. She was useless, and now her love was suffering. Screaming in pain. And she caused it all.

"No! Stop, stop hurting him, please! His heart! Stop it! Stop!" Whitney practically threw herself at the man once he pushed Tony away. "It's me you want! I'll beg, I'll scream, I'll do anything, just don't hurt him!"

"Get back over there!" the man sounded annoyed as he shoved her away from him, making her stumble into Tony's waiting-but trembling-arms. "I'll deal with you two later." Walsh glared at them both before storming out the door.

Whitney immediately turned around once the door slammed shut. "Are you okay?" she inquired, checking him over.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Everything's gonna be okay, Whit, I promise." Tony embraced her tightly, pressing his cheek against hers.

"It's all my fault," tears leaked from her eyes, and onto his shirt, "I'm so sorry, Tony."

"Hey." he stepped back, and looked into her eyes, but instead of his gentle nature, all she could see in them was pain. "Hey, don't cry like that. We-we'll be okay. I bet Pepper and Rhodey are trying to find us right now."

"You're hurt..." her voice trailed away as she cupped his cheek. "It's all my fault."

"Eh," he shrugged, "I'm used to it. Occupational hazard."

With a sad sparkle in her eyes, she said, "Sometimes, I could just cream you."

"Really? I had no idea."

Putting on a fake smile, she kissed him on the cheek before turning around, hiding her face from him. She didn't want him to see her cry.

"What's wrong?" Tony noticed her increasing emotional distress.

Unable to hold in her fear any longer, she twisted around on her heels to her tear-stained face. "What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong! I let the love of my life get kidnapped by a sick psychopath when I had a gun right in my hands! I could've _ended_ it! Except I was _weak,_ and _useless,_ and _pathetic!"_ his eyes shimmered with sadness as her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. "I'm going to die, Tony." she stared into his blue orbs, not able to fully comprehend her previous words. "There's...you're looking at someone who has days to live...either that or as a living zombie. He does horrible things...horrible...horrible things." she hugged her shoulders, seeking comfort within herself. "I'm not going to be myself anymore...after this, you won't recognize me...I won't bounce back...he'll make sure of it. I'm back in hell, and now I brought you in with me. That's what's wrong."

Her love slowly, and silently approached her, taking her hands in his. "Whitney-"

She slipped her hands out of his grasp, turning around again so he couldn't see the blank look in her eyes. "You might as well stop using that name."

In his usual caring manner, Tony turned her around by the shoulders, and lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. "You're always going to be the girly, clumsy, teenager with the high-heel shoes, the skirts, and dresses, that'll never change. But I'll always remember the cute little girl who ran into furniture, and played with me until we both fell asleep on the floor. You're always going to be my Juliet, I'll make sure of that."

Her breathing slowed as his eyes gazed into her's, making her feel safe and secure. "D-don't let go of me." she pressed herself against him even more, seeking his comfort instead of her own.

Her love planted a kiss at the top of her head, leading her over to the wall. "Who says I'm gonna start now?"

And as they curled up in the corner, entangled in each other's arms, Whitney felt as if she was protected.

But now, it was her turn to protect...

* * *

The pair had been trying to track them for hours, using the tracker inside Tony's pod, and Whitney's locket, but to no success.

Rhodey hit the controls with his fist. "It's going all over the place! Germany, really? Germany?"

"You stupid piece of junk!" Pepper slammed her foot against the base of the remote computer. "Ow! Ugh. Controlling temper now."

"What's wrong with this stupid thing? It picks now to act all screwy!" her frustration came out in her voice; its desperate tone distressing the teen beside her.

"Hey, calm down, Pepper." he attempted to calm her. "We don't know if they _are_ in any trouble."

"But I _know_ it. It's so weird, but...have you ever had a feeling deep in your stomach that makes you want to throw up?"

"Yeah, when I've got the stomach flu."

Closing her eyes, she looked up towards the ceiling, and whispered, "Boys." her hazel eyes shone with worry as they reconnected with Rhodey's chocolate ones, "It's like when you know something's up, like when all the lights are off, and there's no one home, and you hear creaks all around you. That kind of feeling."

"We'll see. Bet you a cookie they're okay." Rhodey decided to take her mind off the subject with the thought of sweet confections. She never could resist.

A slight pause took place before she answered, as if she were contemplating. "Oatmeal or chocolate?" she inquired with a slightly raised brow.

"Both."

"You're on."

"Alright, you take the main computer, and we'll track them."

Pepper gave him a slight nod before rushing over to the computer interface, working it as efficiently as possible. She knew something was wrong. One: There was never a time when Tony refused to answer his phone, (especially when she threatened constant texts.) Two: Whitney may have been a tad bit scatterbrained, but she would never do something so blatantly foolish as shutting off his phone entirely. Whitney was a part of Team Iron Man now for Joseph's sake! She knew about the risks, the danger, and the need for consistent communication. So, naturally, that was improbable, and therefore false, indicating a real problem a'brewing. And three: She was going to be a SHEILD agent, she _had_ to know about these things.

Out of the blue, after a few experimental pressing of buttons, two signals emerged on the interface, right on top of each other. Tony and Whitney's signals. They found them! And they were in trouble...the dots were far away from where they should have been-in New York. They were not. Somewhere in New England, her best friends were facing a danger, possibly a lethal danger. She was right all along; her instincts worked, and now, they could save their friends. Because, as usual, those two obviously needed saving.

"Oh my gosh," Pepper, becoming ecstatic, sucked in a mouthful of air. "Rhodey, look at this!"

Her friend, with a curious look in his eyes, hopped down from the chair, and saw what she had accomplished. "Is that...did we do it?" he whispered, unable to catch his breath.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" she high-fived him, resisting the urge to jump in joy.

Rhodey expanded the results, gaining the exact location of their friends. "Hold on guys," he muttered, we're coming..."

* * *

Tony swallowed back a quiet sob, letting his fingers travel through her matted hair.

He wished it was only him, not her, she didn't deserve this, it was too much for him to take, but that's what the man intended, for him to be overwhelmed, and break down. He would never give in to that creature for as long as he lived. It was going to pay. She was delicate, and fragile, nothing could hurt her, otherwise she'd break. He couldn't let her break again; she was much too important to him.

Whitney had already fallen asleep while he held her; she always did. It was another oddity of hers. With the exception of an occasional glance at his love, Tony focused on keeping watch. The man was not coming through that door, even if he wasn't strong enough to stop him. He would do anything for her. If he got hurt, do be it, every pain would be worth it if he could save her just an ounce of fear.

Far too quickly, sleep beckoned him as well, and being too weak to resist, the genius gave in, carefully wrapping his arms even tighter around her stomach. While he was moved about, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard concrete floor, and with Whitney still curled up next to him, he felt something jiggle in his pocket. His eyes flew open as he shot upright, and fumbled around in the pocket for whatever was causing the disturbance. And there it was, the little black velvet box where inside, a ring still waiting patiently for its hopefully-owner. What was he going to do? If the man found out, he'd use it against them, he knew it!

But after taking one glance at her face, the worry evaporated. He placed the smooth, small box back into his pocket, making sure it was safe, and not in danger of falling out. That would be a disaster. Glancing around the room, he discovered no place for him to hide the velvet object; there were no hiding spaces inside the tiny room, there were no windows, no light sources, no furniture, nothing, only a door in the opposite wall. With a small sigh, Tony pulled her up higher, holding her close as she slept away her troubles.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he imagined them somewhere else, someplace far away, where she was safe, and they could live out their days with each other. The faint smell of her lavender perfume brought back pleasant memories of their times together as a couple. Beautiful memories of their love resurfaced to remind him of why he wanted a ring on her finger in the first place, because he fell in love with a girl who made him happier than he had been in ages. Her mere touch made everything better, and having her in his arms made him forget where they were.

She was mesmerizing to him, almost hypnotic in the way she enticed him. He would stare, and stare, and stare at her until his eyes hurt, and even then he couldn't tire of her. It was impossible. She was the absolute definition of beautiful, and he was the luckiest man in the world, since she had not only beauty, but a kind soul as well. Those little kids back at the nursery were proof. They were nice kids, really nice, he liked them. Maybe, if/when they did get married, having a child wouldn't be so bad. They _were_ kind of...cute.

Whitney's minor stirring caught his attention, and he retreated from his mind. She lifted her head, and it stopped near his collarbone, her body shaking, (presumably from fright.) Light whimpers came from her trembling lips, and he moved to wake her, except she grasped his hands instead. She woke herself.

"You can get out of here." she said, her voice weak. "The door."

"I checked the door. It's steel." he brushed the stray hair off her forehead, fighting with the tears threatening to escape.

"Don't cry." her quaking hand swept across his cheek, removing a tear that had escaped his eye.

With his walls removed by her delicate touch, he broke down into a fit of tears, burying his head in her hair, and clutching her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Whitney. I should've stopped it. I should've done something."

"Please don't cry." he felt her hands on his shoulders, rubbing broken, and weak circles into the muscles.

He lifted his head to look in her eyes, "you were supposed to be happy."

She gave him a weak smile, "I'm not alone, so I am happy. Happy I don't have to be alone. You'll be with me, and we'll get through this together, like we always do."

Choking out a laugh, he combed his fingers through the tangles in her hair. "I remember one time, we got caught sneaking stray kittens into the house."

"And your dad was allergic to cats."

"I can still hear the sneezes. How many times?"

"More than twenty."

"Yeah, and days after that too."

"You...you always make me forget." Whitney muttered, rubbing her elbow.

"Maybe I want you to." Tony pulled her into him, resting his head on hers.

And with his arms loosely wrapped around her stomach, they drifted off together, completely oblivious to their surroundings. As far as they were concerned, the room didn't exist. In his dreams, they weren't on that concrete floor, she was a princess, and he was her knight, keeping her safe. Nothing, not even Walsh, would ever harm her again.

He would make sure of it...

* * *

Walsh rapped his fingers on the dilapidated wooden table in the other room.

The man could hear every word they said, and see every movement they made through a small crack in the wall. (Of which they were too idiotic to notice.) And what he heard, and saw was gold. Pure gold. All snuggly, were they? Perfect, he could use that. Break the girl first, then the boy would follow. It would take more than five months to fix his pet after he was through with her. She'd be in the hospital for more than a week, possibly even a year. He would show her the real meaning of fear, anxiety, and pain. He would let them starve, and freeze in that room, locked up with no escape, no light, no hope of freedom. They would bend sooner or later, and then his work would be completed.

Abruptly coming to a decision, Dalton stood up from his chair, and stormed back into the room, finding the teens snuggled up with each other on the floor.

"Two little lovebirds all cozied up." Walsh teased them as they stood up. Her, of course, rather shakily.

Tony gave the girl a saddened glance before standing in front of her. "Look, please, I'll do anything. Don't hurt her."

"Now that's sweet." he began to walk towards them, slowly. "You know, most high school sweethearts don't make it through the school year, and you...you won't make it through next week." Walsh smacked the boy fiercely, knocking him to the ground.

Whitney immediately protected him; throwing her body over his in an obvious attempt to save him from whatever might come next. Well, if that was what she wanted...

The man clenched his fists, and brought a solid punch down hard on her back, earning him a tiny whimper. Still using the his fists, Walsh struck her mercilessly, with the boy trying to push her off him all the while.

After a few more seconds of ruthless pounding, the man finally relented, but his pet remained in her position, never moving until he left the room. Watching through the crack, Walsh saw her slide off the other one onto her back, instantly arched, then flipped over to her stomach. He did good work. That Tony person quickly tended to her, lifting her up in his arms, holding her as if she was his bride. She looked miserable; her arms hung weakly at her sides, and her head was barely supported, almost limp. In fact, her entire body looked almost limp. A grin crept up on his face; they were suffering.

Just a little more, then, his job would be finished...

* * *

A/N: This...was...terrible.

I wanted to delete the whole thing _so_ badly, but I've kept you guys waiting for too long. Here's to hoping the next chapter will be better! And, oh, it _will_ be...it _will_ be...*evil cackle*


	19. Chapter 19: The Meaning of Nothingness

**A/N:** Hello again! I got a little free time today from all of my stupid tests, so I got to write this! It's short, but I wanted to stop at the point I did. You'll find out why. And the next chapter will be significantly larger (up to 8,000 words) so I didn't see the need in keeping all of you waiting for so long this time. Also, I really didn't check this over, since I don't have time, and the person who's supposed to do that for me...has all the stupid tests, too. Please forgive me in advance if you see any inconsistencies I overlooked in my haste. Formalities over, yes? Then say hello to Stewart...

* * *

"Why are you so stupid?" Tony swallowed back his tears as he held Whitney in his arms.

She took a beating for him. For him. The love of his life was protecting him. That was his job! He was supposed to be protecting her, but he couldn't do anything right, he couldn't save her like he was supposed to. Nothing made sense; the whole world was backwards...because _his_ world was hurting.

Planting a small kiss atop her head, he pulled her closer, relishing in the body heat she provided. The frigid air was now setting in; it was probably night outside, although, the dim illumination did not change. After all, there were no windows. No light, no food, no water, was the man going to starve them to death? Or was he going to freeze them? They say hypothermia is quite warm in the last seconds. If he was going to die, at least it would be with her. Holding the one he loved one last time before slipping away was a better death than he could have ever thought of.

But Whitney didn't deserve to die.

There she was, in his arms, trembling like a leaf from the cold, and he couldn't do a thing about it except wrap his arms around her, and try to make her warm again, but as usual, he was unsuccessful. Her shivering body pressed against him even more; searching for a warmth that wasn't there. Why couldn't he make everything right for her? She deserved peace, she deserved to have that for at least once in her life, and all he wanted to do was give it to her. He wanted to give her happiness, belonging, companionship, and most importantly, love. Why couldn't he provide those things for her? She gave him those things; she gave him everything she had, and yet, he couldn't give them back. He messed everything up for the girl he loved.

Why couldn't they have a deserted island? Someplace where nothing would happen to her, and where she would be happy. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

Whitney stirred in his arms, and he turned his attention towards her, giving gentle pets to her hair. Slowly, her eyes opened, staring straight into his. "Tony? Did he hurt you? Has he...has he hurt you?" her quaking hand reached up to touch his cheek.

Tears welled up in his eyes, "I don't wanna hear another peep outta you." he tapped her nose, and she closed her eyes again, silently respecting his wishes.

But soon, they cracked open again, a curious sparkle abiding in them. "Tony?" a light crack could be heard in her voice.

He swept his hand through her hair, putting on a smile. "Uh-huh?"

"I'm cold."

"It's probably nighttime."

She gave him a small nod before closing her eyes once more, settling into him. However, her sleep didn't last for long.

"Tony?" she asked again, her eyes opened only slightly.

"Uh-huh?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." he nuzzled her nose right before she fell asleep.

He did love her. He loved her too much. If there was such a thing as having too much, he had it, his love for her could not ever be diminished. A light sigh came from her lips as she snuggled closer, burying her head into his shoulder. She was too good for this, too good for the suffering she was being out through. It was final; there would be no more. No more suffering for his innocent girl.

His love was never going through any sort of pain again, even if it was the last thing he did...

* * *

Whitney had to protect him, but for now, all she could do was rest.

The cold ate away at her bones, yet she couldn't gain any warmth. Tony told her it was nighttime, that would explain it. The dryness in her throat made the freezing cold even worse, as well as her growling stomach. But she wouldn't complain. Worrying her love would only make things worse; he became too tense when she wasn't feeling well. One time, in the past five months, she became ill with the stomach flu, and he was right by her side, making sure she wasn't alone throughout the entire ordeal. Just like now, except, she wished it didn't have to be this way.

Although she was glad she didn't have to be by herself, having him here made everything worse. In some way. The back of her mind was riddled with things that could happen to the one she loved. She couldn't let him get hurt because of her; because of her mistake. Because she didn't shoot the man when she had the chance. But Whitney didn't understand how she was able to handle the gun so smoothly; her hands didn't shake. That didn't matter though. What did matter was that she failed. She was _pathetic,_ and she failed.

How many people had she failed over the years? Too many to count, but she was undoing those failures. Slowly but surely, she would make everyone proud of her. She just had to get out of there first. Once they were free, she would become the best actress the world had ever known. She would win Academy Awards, Oscars, every honor in the business. Then she wouldn't be worthless; then she could be looked up to, and be deserving of her love. She would have earned something, have been something, accomplished something. Only, she wouldn't lose herself in the process. With him by her side, she could do anything, and nothing could ever hold her back.

She would also make Maria proud.

The mother always said she would do great things once she got older, but she lost sight of that, and became a girl Maria wouldn't be proud of. Whitney would fix that, too. It seemed as though she was forever fixing up the messes her younger self left behind, but she would soon abandon that life for something greater. She would become a woman even her father could be proud of. But what about her prospects of children; what would happen to those dreams? They would most certainly not be tossed aside for mere fame! That was childish, selfish, and rotten. Like her old self. Sure, giving up her abundant career would be difficult, but the pitter patter of tiny feet on hardwood floors was more enjoyable than being in front of a camera. Her class at the church was the ultimate deciding factor; she adored those little children.

A gentle hand trailed down the side of her face, interrupting her future daydream, accompanied by a soft voice. "Everything's going to be okay, Whitney. Don't worry about anything, just go to sleep now." the voice whispered, planting intermittent kisses to her cheek. The voice belonged to her love; he was so gentle, and kind. Always caring, even though-at the moment-she didn't deserve it.

Gradually, all the warmth radiating from her side dissipated, leaving her without heat. Worried and frightened, she opened her eyes to the barren concrete room. And no Tony. No anything.

"Tony!" she cried out, shooting up. "Tony, where are you!"

Whitney frantically searched around the room, even though the entire area was plainly seen. She couldn't help herself. Her love was gone; she failed him again! She failed him by losing her concentration, and falling asleep. She failed her only love.

But when her heart sunk to the bottom, that creaky door opened...

And her love stumbled through, littered in bruises.

* * *

Tony didn't feel at all well.

His mouth was terribly dry..._but Whitney felt so soft, like she always did, all snuggled up with him on the couch..._she was crying, he could tell, hearing her sobs was too much for him..._but she was always smiling with him, so happy and carefree, his girl, his beautiful Whitney._

He protected her, that was all he cared about; keeping her safe. Tony offered to go in her place, and the creep agreed. And brother, did it hurt. But at least Whitney didn't have to go through something like that..._her blue eyes sparkled against the moonlight as he sat next to her, an arm draped around her shoulders, his head resting on hers_...he shuddered at the thought; she was too delicate, fragile, and sweet for brutal things like what happened in that back room.

But other than the harsh treatment he received, he gained invaluable information as well. He knew there were exits, another door, and certain weapons like the pistol they could use while escaping. As a last resort. He would kill the man, without remorse, if he had to..._a gentle smile graced her delicate features as he brushed back a few strands of her hair, their lips mere inches apart. Not being able to resist temptation, he kissed her slowly, his fingers entangling themselves in her silky lock_s...no, if that creep even touched his girl, he would destroy him with that gun in a heartbeat. Screw everything his father taught him, if that's what was required to protect her, he would do it.

A softened hand clutched his, and helped him stagger to the wall. His vision was blurry, too messed up to move around correctly, but the girl with the delicate hands was always there to lead him into the light..._when she smiled it was breathtaking. She slowly approached him, wearing a flowing pink dress, making his mouth go dry as she gazed into his eyes. The world seemed to stop once she stood in front of him, and he shook her hand, unable to speak_...he would never leave her; he would never go away from his Whitney.

Her hands coaxed him down, and he trusted her, sitting down in the concrete. Tediously, his vision cleared, and her worried face came into view. He didn't like it when she was afraid like that, but she was still the prettiest girl ever. In the entire world. Out of every single girl on the planet, she was without a doubt the prettiest one.

Oh, how he wished he the strength to hold her! He wanted to cradle her in his arms; fall asleep with her head on his shoulder, and wake up to the sunlight reflecting off her gorgeous features. How beautiful could a girl get? How perfect could one become? Was he so blinded by love that every movement she made was graceful; that every line in her face was beautiful; that every thing she did was wonderful? Even in his haze of pain, she was still at the forefront of his battered mind. She was always there, in his head, messing around with his thoughts, interlacing with them.

Anything even remotely reminiscent of her made him go weak; even the colors on the armor would make him remember the pretty red dress she wore on her birthday, and that thought would bring him back to the night with the pink dress. The flowing pink gown she wore when they danced together, when he realized he was falling in love with her. That night was perfect, in all respects, even if it was one of those "high society" events. He always enjoyed watching her dance..._she danced around the kitchen floor, only stopping when she saw him standing in the doorway. Brushing back a wave of her hair, she timidly looked up at him, her eyes giving off a sparkle only she could manage_...she always looked so pretty when she danced. He enjoyed having her close; gazing into her eyes, and getting lost within their affections. He'd never felt so happy when they were together, it was as if she could wash away his every worry, and cause him to forget everything except the now. Except those eyes. Those beautiful, exquisite eyes.

Reaching up, he brushed his fingers over her smooth cheek. "You're s-so beautiful." Tony gushed over her in his delirium; imagining they were in their spot, all alone, just like all those times before. When she was safe.

Whitney released a choked laugh. "Remember how our song goes, Tony? Remember?" she swept her hand through his hair as she sang softly, making his eyes close, just so he can concentrate on her sweet voice. He remembered their song..._it was wonderful as he danced with her, the ballroom floor underneath them as smooth as ice while they glided atop of its hardwood. She was a beautiful sight in that flowing, pink dress, the skirt bellowing around her ankles as they stepped in time to the gentle music_...she was always so beautiful, so vivid, so enchanting, just like a princess.

A weak smile graced his weary features as his eyelids opened again to look upon her steady orbs. "I...I love you." he whispered, trying to build up the strength to touch her again; to feel her milky skin, and hold her close. The cold didn't bother him now, not while she was here with him, nothing would matter except her. As long as she was safe.

At his previous words, her eyes slowly darkened, and she kissed his forehead before standing up, her hands clenched into fists, and walked towards the door with a statue-like posture. He knew that walk. The stoical nature of her movements; the darkness in her eyes; and the clenched hands. When she didn't want to be bothered, had a bad day-or a fight with her father-the walk commenced. Usually accompanied by the dreaded narrowing of her eyes.

The Walk meant one thing: she was going to do something, and it was going to be big.

* * *

Whitney wasn't going to stand for this.

Hurting Tony meant serious repercussions for the persons involved; she wasn't playing the damsel in distress any longer. They were getting out of here, they were going to be happy, and nothing was stopping her. Except fear. Fear was the one thing holding her back, but not anymore. She wasn't afraid, she was fed up. Fed up with the pain, suffering, and humiliation. Fed up with the grief, and sorrow she spread around herself.

Fed up with the one's she loved paying for her mistakes.

She had to suffer the consequences herself; she had to be strong enough to face them, she had to be brave. No one else was going to stand up for her any longer, she was seventeen, she could defend herself. After taking long strides, the determined teen reached her target: The steel door. Pulling up the torn, black sleeves of her dress, she readied her fists for what was to come, and began pounding on the barrier with all her strength, undoubtedly getting the attention of the man behind it, but straining her bruised back. Oh, how she strained it! Pain shot through her spine like a rocket, almost forcing her to quit, but she wouldn't give in. She wouldn't quit. She was brave, darn it all, Tony called her brave. If she was brave enough for her knight, then she was brave enough for anything!

"Whitney...what're you doing?" Tony's raspy voice demanded from behind, but she wasn't stopping, she wasn't going to be afraid of the man. She wouldn't be afraid of anyone, ever again. Not anyone, or anything.

All of a sudden, the door flew open, pulling her inside the back room for a few seconds, until she was able to jump back from the man's threatening glare.

"What do you think you're doing?" Walsh's hand shot out to clutch her wrist, squeezing it in his calloused palm as he pushed her backwards, shutting the steel entry once they were both inside.

With her signature narrow-eyed stare, she yelled, "I'm never letting you hurt anyone again!" and executed a near-perfect side kick to his stomach, causing him to let go of her now purpled wrist, consequently giving her more opportunities for attack.

And she took them.

She aimed punch, after kick, after brutal punch, fully intending on ending the suffering once and for all. But her confidence rose too soon, for the man had yet another surprise up his sleeve. The device. Hidden out of sight, she only noticed it mere seconds after she was doomed, and it became embedded on her stomach. Old Sparky could still tango with her nervous system, and she collapsed onto the floor, screaming out of pain, angering her love by the wall. She could faintly hear his obscene shouts, and yells, mixed with the sound of sneakers scuffling across the floor. He was trying to help her; while she could only lie there helpless, fighting off the darkness shrouding her vision. In her pain, she almost didn't recognize the cold stiffness of a gun barrel pressed into her head.

But she had no doubts when dear Sparky removed itself from her burning side.

"One more step, and your little dove goes away to fly with the rest of the birds." The man threatened, gripping her forearm, and pulling her panting self up to her feet.

She tottered back and forth, breathing forcefully, still trying to catch her breath as the pistol poked at her temple, reminding her of several times she was held at gunpoint. Mostly to frighten her into a car, or van, to be carted off to some God forsaken warehouse, she hated warehouses. Maybe even more than she hated cats. And she hated cats. They were too furry; with claws, hissing, and all-around meanness She preferred dogs. Dogs were faithful; they followed you around, barked, played with you, ran up to you when you got home. Puppy dogs were good pets, in her opinion, but her father wouldn't let her get one. Perhaps when she got older, and bought her own home, she could get a little puppy to keep her company. Like Mousey.

Her attempts to distance herself from the situation were unsuccessful; so much for the Mousey methods.

"You...you let her go." Tony tried to appear intimidating; but the way his eyes darted back to her betrayed his true emotions. He was scared. Scared he'd lose her.

"Aw, you two are adorable, truly adorable. I'm going to miss you both." Walsh cocked the gun, and Tony immediately got ready to pounce.

But, before her knight's rescue attempt could be implemented, a loud explosion send that steel door flying forward, knocking both Walsh and Whitney down with it...

* * *

**A/N:** Well, there you have it, you can curse me out now. But I just don't have time these days, even though I love writing, school-work trumps all. My mother insists on a good grade, or else she'll take away all of my writing privileges. So, you can see how much I _really_ want a good grade.

Another bit of sad, depressing news; Shattered Glass was plagiarized.

**A/R(Author's Rant):** A story, of which I will not name, used major aspects of "Shattered". Which-as traditionally defined-is plagiarism. Fortunately, my editor told me about it, or I never would have known. (In case you hate me, or simply don't believe me, I can provide proof if you like.) Honestly, I really wouldn't care except for the fact that it's dangerously similar to the sub-plot in this story. They even used some of the dialogue! I'm a simple girl; all this person had to do was tell me that they wanted to use those parts, and I would've said yes. But, whoever this was, did not.

This person made me extremely upset; please don't copy my work without my permission, please. I work hours a day on my stories, and it hurts me so much when someone takes my hard work, and claims it's their own. All the person had to do was talk to me, just a simple hello, and it would have been okay, really it would've. But no, they didn't contact me, and they don't have my permission. I'm still very sad, but if the person wishes to talk with me, I will give them permission, but now they must credit me for those ideas. I do not appreciate people who steal, especially from fourteen-year-old writers such as myself. I just don't understand why they didn't just talk to me. I'm not mean, am I? Maybe a little protective of my work, but am I truly mean?

If it continues, I might have to delete this story, and leave FanFiction. Seriously, using someone else's stuff without their knowledge is mean, guys. Don't, I beg of you, don't. It hurts the author in ways you can't imagine unless you've been through it. It's like...someone broke into your house, and stole everything you worked hard for. Please, ask before you take.

**A/N:** Anyway, rant over. Forgive me for letting off a little steam, I hope you all don't hate me even more, I just really needed to get that out there.


	20. Chapter 20: Crippled Illusions

**A/N:** _I bet you all have been wondering how Whitney and Tony are going to end up. No? Okay, moving on. A warning: I had to a lot of deleting, because this chapter was way longer than it should be. Way longer. Think, over 20,000 words. Seriously, guys, it was like a novella it was so long. So, there might be a few discrepancies, and for those, I apologize in advance. _

_This chapter is dedicated to: PercyJacksonLover14-This chapter is for you; every last word was written because you encouraged me through it! I tried my best to make it the longest and most delicate chapter I've ever written, because I wanted to do you justice. You're the very first person who's taken even the slightest interest in my writing, let alone enjoyed it, and I couldn't be more grateful, or surprised, and I just can't thank you enough! This chapter is unequivocally for you! I tried to be as blunt about it as possible, so you'll find references to your works throughout this chapter, my friend...look out for them. :)_

* * *

The chains on her hands felt heavier as time passed, slowly, like a ticking time bomb with its rushing clicks in her ears, before it exploded, and pushed her into an even deeper despair. A light groan of agony escaped her tightly pressed lips while the shivers ate away at her battered form. Nightmares lurked in this darkness, waiting to strike from behind, wanting to steal her mere self, and take the only thing she had left. Dignity. The man already stripped off her pride, but at least she had dignity. Once a socialite, always a socialite. The grace never left, but neither did pain.

Her body shuddered as she pressed her cheek against the wall, seeking some support for her aching body. The man would come back, she knew it, he would come back and beat her again. She shifted her legs; the muscles were beyond sore from standing on them all night, not to mention the strain in her arms. Only a sociopath could look at her, and not feel any sympathy. She was a dirty, bruised mess. The man was a sadist, not a sociopath, he enjoyed tormenting people for his own entertainment, and she was just another one of his playmates. Doomed to die, she supposed.

"Pitiful." A voice in the darkness criticized, somewhere beyond her sight.

Whitney teetered, "Wh-who's th-there?" she called out weakly, straining her eyes to see past the blurry mess encompassing her vision.

A shadowy figure strolled out of the eclipse, revealing itself to be Tony. But he looked so stern, unhappy, even mad. It couldn't be him.

"You let him get away with it." his voice was cold, and full of hate like she'd always feared it would be. This couldn't be her Tony, it had to be someone else. Tony was nothing like her father.

"I-I couldn't do anything, please don't be mad." her eyes pleaded with him as his form grew rigid with anger. He never got this way with her before! She did something terrible, she made him mad, she was awful.

"You didn't even try to stop him! How could you? After everything I've done for you, you couldn't do this for me!" he yelled at her through the darkness, a shroud of black eating away at her sight of him.

"Please, Tony, please, I'll do better, I will! Don't go away mad!" she flipped her wrists around in the restraints, trying to get out of them.

"Mad? You think I'm just mad? I'm angry! I hate you! How could you let me down like that? We're done, Whitney, finished. It's over, and it's your fault like everything else."

Those horrible words stabbed her heart, soul, and mind, leaving her in nothing but a mere shell. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe as his eyes displayed hatred vile hatred for her. Why? He said he loved her, he said he needed her, he said, he said, he said so many things, so many useless, intangible things. But she was already dying, why not add to the suffering and misery? Tony had a right to despise her just like everybody else, and nothing would ever change it. She was going to be stuck here until she bled out, or got an overdose of electricity. He was just, speeding things along.

But still, she begged.

"No!" Whitney lurched forward, her back exploding in flames, "Tony, don't leave me, don't go! Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm s-so...s-s-sorry." her dream self passed out, the intense pain miserably real, and she was forced to return to her normal body.

And whatever awaited her inside it.

x-x-x

Hope. Hope would destroy him in the end.

In that second, Tony could have sworn someone had come to save them, but no one was there when the dust cleared. It was a breach of that creep's "security." Who would rig explosives to blow so gingerly? It was a teeny little mouse for heaven's sake! He could still hear the sound of Walsh's obscenities while he reset the trap, and door along with Whitney's consistent crying. Tony swept her up in his arms as quickly as he could, but she was taken away from him before the man went to fix the C4, and the steel barrier. She was still crying, from what he didn't know, but her head was down, her eyes were closed, and tears were leaking from her long eyelashes.

The occasional curses from the creep mixed with the rattling of chains, reminding him of where they were, and the circumstances in which they both were placed. He hated this more than anything. Not being able to even hold the girl he loved while she cried was enough to make him sadder than a...he didn't know what, but he was pretty darn upset. Tony shifted around, trying in vain to make some progress on the ropes around his hands that tethered him to the wall. Strange-the man tied her up with chains, instead of rope, but why? Easy answer, because it was a psychopath! His sweet Whitney never looked up at him, never made a sound, not even a sob, she just continued to cry silently in the opposite corner. Her dust-stained face tugged at his heartstrings; she was too fragile, too precious for things like this. She never hurt anyone, she didn't deserve such treatment.

"Whitney," he called her name, and her head lifted to meet his eyes. "We're going to be okay. Alright?" Tony stared into her sagging face, gauging her reaction to his words.

She pressed herself into the corner, "But what if-"

"Trust me," he cracked a smile, "Everything's going to be okay."

"If only that were true." A raspy voice sounded from near the door, and the figure that spoke those words appeared from the darkness, making Whitney shrink as the creeper crept closer and closer to her location, even letting out a strangled whimper when he reached her.

"Don't touch her!" Tony yelled while struggling against the ropes with a force so hard the cords cut deep into his skin.

Walsh scoffed, obviously not intimidated, and twisted the fabric of her dress in his fingers, lifting the girl -chains and all- to her feet. "Too late. No matter what you do, she's still my pet." The man tilted back her head, "Aren't you?" he purred, running a yellowed fingernail in circles around her cheekbone.

Tony felt something warm and sticky around his wrists - blood. If he timed it right, he could use the stuff as a tool to get his hands free! He just needed to keep pulling. "Leave, her, alone." his voice was laced with poison as he discreetly shifted his hands around.

The man huffed out a laugh, moving his hands to her neck, lightly squeezing. "Do you prefer this more?"

"N-no!" his eyed widened as much as hers did. And his hands stilled.

"I'll chain her up like a dog. I'll leave her here to freeze, and she won't rest, since she'll be in too much pain." The man appeared to be amused at Tony's look of horror. "Would you like to kill me now...Tony? Would you? You do realize that you'll have to hurt your precious dove first."

"Don't, don't l-listen to him...Tony...don't." Whitney's face contorted with pain as Walsh compressed her throat harder, raising her up so that her feet barely scraped against the dirty cement.

His hands clenched around the rope, "You're a sick freak!"

Walsh's eyes darkened to a state that scared him; he soon realized his mistake. "Careful what you call me! I can make her suffer whenever I want! She's mine!" The man increased the pressure dramatically, fully strangling her. The chains around Whitney's hands rattled as she choked and coughed, her fingers wriggling in a subconscious attempt to get them free.

Tony gulped in a dry breath before shouting, "I-I didn't mean it, I swear!"

"Not good enough!" Walsh threw his girl to the ground, and she sputtered and coughed, even as red liquid welled in several cuts on her knees. But she managed to look at him.

His eyes locked with hers for one, breathless second before it started. The first punch was delivered to her face, knocking her to the floor, but she just lay there, unmoving. Punch after kick, the man beat her into a bruised pulp. No patch of visible skin was left untouched. Yelps, groans, and whimpers sounded from the girl on the floor, wringing his heart. Tony's eyes couldn't budge from the disturbing scene; they were stuck on the bruises and sweat that covered his Whitney like a second skin, yet she never screamed, even while her eyelids fluttered from pain. Tears of anguish dripped from Tony's glimmering orbs; every limb in his body quivered, and every breath he took shuddered in his throat. He couldn't stand any more. Gasps of pain left her mouth as she clutched at the cement, blatantly willing herself not to scream while the man pounded his fists into her already battered form.

"Stop!" he choked out, lurching forward. "You'll kill her!"

"Maybe that's what I want." Walsh responded, giving a harsh blow to her ribs, earning him a yelp before he flicked out a switchblade from his pant pocket, and stalked over towards him.

A sadistic, menacing look of excitement flickered in his emerald eyes, as if this was the most fun he had in years while he stared into Tony's stunned blue ones. Out of the corner of his eye, a tattered Whitney was seen trying to get up, but falling down with each attempt. Why couldn't she stay out of this? The man was finally turning to him for a change, not her, and that was exactly what he wanted.

But Whitney showed no signs of allowing what he wanted to happen.

She succeeded in crawling, her forearms threatening to bend under the strain of movement and the heavy restraints, and fell down in front of the man's feet. "Please...don't, don't...hurt, him." a sense of panic radiated from her, like the world would end if something happened to him. Why did he have to be blessed with a noble sweetheart for a girlfriend? She couldn't take much more of this!

"How adorable. Well, I'll be happy to oblige, but first, let's get rid of any sentimentality." he ripped the engraved, golden locket from her neck, breaking the clasp, causing the heart to slide out from the chain, and land on the floor with a quiet clink. "I never liked lockets." Walsh finally let go of Whitney's neck, and she started gulping in air, the red substance not flowing as much as it was before. Thank goodness. The man then took the blade, and in one strike, cut the ropes around his bloodied wrists, "Try and attack me before I leave, and the poison is in the next room."

Tony tediously brought his hands out from behind him, and studied them while also watching his girl. He used every ounce of self-restraint imaginable not to move while Walsh strode out of the room as if nothing ever happened. As soon as the man left, however, he instantly scooped Whitney into his arms, cradling her carefully. Sweeping back her damp hair, he whispered sweet words of comfort, trying to calm her so she would rest.

She didn't make a sound, not one, she only nestled into him, curling up against his chest as if she was a scared little child. There was no doubt in his mind that she was scared; he could read her like a book. A continuous shiver ran up and down his spine, not from the cold, but from fear. Fear for her. What if she never woke up? What if he lost his girl forever? What would become of him then? Up would be down, right would be left, and nothing would make sense again. The girl in his arms meant the world to him, since she placed each piece of his life's puzzle back together.

He would make sure she never lived in fear, sadness, or pain. Nothing would be around to remind her of these days; there would be only the sunshine, and the laughter of a happy family. What she always wanted. Tony pulled her bruised figure closer, and nuzzled into her hair, the faded aroma of her perfume bringing back old memories of their youth, and romance. They shared such good times together, and once they got out, that ring still in his pocket would find its place, and they would create more memories together. So many more. Kissing her forehead, he untied the chains, revealing her reddened skin. He rubbed her abused wrists, staring at her head on his shoulder. She didn't deserve any of this, not again, was this what she went through before? He shuddered at the thought.

"Now we can have some real fun." Tony's eyes jerked up at the sound of the man's voice. And they turned to saucers at the sight of what he was holding.

The taser.

"You and I are going to play a game." Walsh grinned, fiddling with the device in his palms. "With Whitney here."

Whitney shifted in his arms at the sound of her name, opened her eyes to see the man in front of them, and she squeaked in fear, pressing herself against his chest for protection.

"Question and answer. You answer, and I'll question. If you lie, or refuse to respond," The man flicked it on for a few seconds, then shut it off. "Your Whitney gets a shock."

"I don't think I like this game." Tony quipped, earning him a snarl from Walsh, and a mewl from Whitney. "What if I don't want to play?"

Walsh's eyes flickered with pure malevolence, twisted with hysteria, as he towered over them both, causing Whitney to shiver. "Then I'll take the whip from off the hook in the other room, come back in here, and make her scream."

Whitney squeaked in terror, her whole body shaking as the man glared down at her with an unwavering gaze. How did this psycho have such control over her?

His eyes softened as he took a glance at the shivering girl, and he lifted his gaze back to the man, the stare instantly turning to venom. "If you touch one hair on her head, I'll-"

"Haven't we been through this before?" the man shifted his head to the side, obviously concealing a grin under his wrinkling features as he backed away a few steps. "I have been generous, Stark, but I don't need to be." An amused look captured Walsh's eyes, as if that freak was enjoying this. He probably was. "There's a vat of water in this building, large enough to drown in. There's also a decently sized cage above it. Now, what would happen if she got...trapped...in that cage? And say, the lever holding that cage up, broke?"

He opened his mouth several times before he finally choked out, "You-"

"I would. I forgot to mention an electric generator. A few copper wires, and...I'm sure you can hear screaming from all the way over here." The man clutched Whitney's unshielded arm, and yanked her from his grasp. "Why don't we test the acoustics in this building. Shall we?"

Whitney panted from fear, and scratched at Walsh's arms, "No! No, please, not again, let me go, let me go!" her cies stabbed his soul as the freak squeezed her forearm with a grip that made the skin turn white, and pushed her in front of him, leading her away to be tortured for his refusal. The "game" was a trap, another way to make them both suffer, but dear God...

Tony jumped up, and yelled, "Stop! I'll-I'll play."

Walsh spun around, holding on to only one of her arms, "Perfect." his tone suggested excitement, and Tony held back a grimace. "Let's just make sure we understand the rules. Try and attack me, she gets a jolt that I'm certain no one would wake up from. Fail to answer correctly, or at all, and I am at liberty to shock her until you do so. If you come within a foot of our position, I'll give her a warning shock. Understand?" Tony grumbled something inaudibly, and the man grabbed a fistful of her hair to snap back her head, and hovered the torture weapon close to her flushed neck. "I said, do you understand?" his eyes glared down at him with absolute malice while Whitney stood completely rigid, afraid to move or breathe.

"Yes." he mumbled, backing up against the concrete wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Whitney swallowed hard against the taser on her throat. "Don't say a-any-"

The man snarled, and flicked the device on, making her arch and cry out in pain. Then, after a few seconds of punishment, he took it away, leaving her collapsed on the ground, gulping in air.

"What'd you do that for?" Tony demanded breathlessly, his eyes trained on her limp figure.

"Pets don't speak." The man responded, a cold tone to his voice.

"She's not a pet!" he pounced on him. It was a mistake. An act of rage. Pure, unbridled rage.

The man pushed Whitney into the wall, and grabbed his wrist, twisting it so he was left in a position where if he moved, that wrist would break. It hurt. But it didn't hurt half as much as that taser. Walsh jammed the device into his side, sending sheer pain up and down his spine. He might have screamed, he didn't know, nor did he want to.

"Tony!" The unmistakable shrillness of a scream had to belong to her, and almost like a reaction, the agony stopped. His wrist was released, and he stumbled over to the wall, sliding down the rough surface while watching a small, slim figure race to him. "Tony, darling," it said, accompanied by quaking fingers caressing the sides of his face. "Are you okay?"

"We'll get out of here." he managed to lift his hands to her cheeks, "I promise."

Her eyes darkened with determination, "I got you into this. I'll get you out."

"Quit your whispering!" Walsh grasped Whitney's forearm, and teared her away from him. The monster.

"Please, let him go, then I'll...I'll do whatever you want," her head dipped as she shook from head to toe, "I won't fight, I won't try and run away, and you can do whatever you want with me. Just let him go."

"Are you crazy?" Tony yelled, his eyes widened.

The man crossed his arms, adding in a raised eyebrow. "Interesting."

"I just want one thing else. I want to say goodbye." Tony's heart crumbled; they swore to never say goodbye. Only see you later. They promised to stay together, forever and ever and ever, until the end of time.

Walsh shot him a stare, and he returned it with equal hatred. "Fine, but not too long."

His girl shuffled over to him, her bare feet shifting across the dirty cement, and she looked into his eyes. A cold wall was placed in those eyes, unlike anything he ever saw in them before.

Tony cupped her cheeks, a silent tear falling down his own. "Whitney, I-"

She shook her head; a series of jerking movements. "Please don't say anything. We only have a short amount of time and I love you. I love you so much." A flood of waterworks rushed over his trembling fingers, and he slid them into her hair, grasping the strands as if he held on to them, then maybe, just maybe, this would all go away. It had to be a hint, their departure, something she wanted him to know, to do, that would get them out of there. When they were younger, she always had a plan of escape, but did she have one now? Or was this truly a goodbye? Whitney never joked about these things...

"You...forget it." he removed his hands from her hair, and placed them on her back, jerking her forward to meet his lips in a passion-filled embrace he never knew he could muster. But then again, this was goodbye.

The usual taste of honey on her lips was masked by the coppery slick of blood, and he pulled her even closer, willing the unwelcome intruder to go away, so it would be like old times. So he would wake up from this nightmare with her at his side, peacefully slumbering in his arms like nothing went wrong. Like none of this ever happened. Her previously shaking hands slid up his shoulders to clasp around his neck. That was like old times. Whitney's dull fingernails dug into his shoulders, an almost painful sensation if he wasn't already dying. Every inch of his heart had been smashed a million times over, as if he was run over by a freight train. That didn't sound so bad. If only she hadn't been so dead serious, then he wouldn't be thinking about suicide. Why couldn't his arc reactor fail in this very moment? Life without Whitney would never be an option, and just like before, he'd bring her back.

There was no space left between them, just like their two hearts. If one could ever be intertwined with another, it was the way he was with her. He didn't care about the bruises, the damaged skin, or even the stark-raving mad psychopath behind them, all he wanted was her. For now and for forever. As long as they both shall live.

That didn't seem like very long at the moment.

A lone sob made its way past his throat. At last, he was dead. Cold, and broken, and alone. So he let their lips part for the last time, the lost scent of lavender mixed with the taste of honey overcoming both the senses, triumphing over the stench of fish and the dust on his tongue. He memorized how she looked, how she felt, how she tasted, how she smelt, but those things could never be replicated or replaced. And now he was going to lose her. Lose the only girl who had ever stolen his heart, his soul, and his mind. Who conquered every living, breathing moment he had. She felt the same way, he could feel it, he was connected with her very conscious in such an intense way it frightened him. No other girl, woman, or whatever would match up to Whitney Julietta Stane, and that was the truth.

He couldn't let her go. Not now, not ever. But without warning, Tony was ripped from her arms, and shoved away from her with a brutal, blinding force. She just stood there, crying, like a stone. A sobbing stone.

With a fire building up in his bones, he shouted towards her, "You don't have to do this! I'll find you, Whitney, I promise! I love you!"

And with those last words, Tony was pushed into the other room, and the fixed door slammed shut. His view of her was gone, and he couldn't remember what she looked like. That sweet face had vanished the second she was out of sight. Why couldn't he at least have a memory to look back on? She was the love of his life, and always would be! Why couldn't he remember?

Walsh's fingernails dug into his shoulder. Unlike Whitney's, its were sharp and penetrated his flesh. No one ever would come close to her gentleness anyway. "You really think I'm going to let you go?"

"No, not really." Tony snapped, his emotional turmoil affecting every aspect of his brain.

And he paid for it.

Dalton, or whoever this psycho was, smacked him on the cheek, snapping his head to the side. "Quiet! Don't you want to find out how you're going to die?" Walsh's taunting tone shoved more coal into the fire.

"No." he rolled his eyes; now he was the one who wasn't intimidated.

"I can have her killed instead." the man towered over him, a terrifying look on his face. "I can make you watch while she's drowning, or being electrocuted, or I can let her bleed out. I can cause her so much pain, Tony, I can make her scream. They're wonderful. Full of pain, and suffering. I can make her suffer." Tony covered his ears, and refused to listen any further, but that horrid voice entered his mind nonetheless. "Her last moments will be painful, I assure you, and you'll get to see them. Yes, I'll make you watch. Would you like that? Would you like to watch? All the blood, screaming, and-"

He couldn't stand it anymore! He tore his hands away from his ears, "You're a sick bastard! A sick, twisted bastard!"

His defenses were damaged, and Walsh took advantage of that, twisting both his arms behind his back while holding him in front. The man pushed him along the rotting hallway as he kicked and fought viciously, screaming vile threats of anger.

"I'm sure we can find a nice vat of water for you to reside in, Stark. A very cozy place I'm sure." Walsh opened yet another door, and he saw the gigantic tub of water.

And his heart sunk...just like he would.

x-x-x

It had been only a few hours, but to Whitney, it felt like a lifetime.

Being kicked around like a can was not fun. Not fun at all. She could hardly breathe, but she knew it wasn't over. It never was. Another shock to her shoulders, or a kick to her side, it didn't matter what her tormentor did at this point, every muscle in her body ached and contracted. A thin stream of blood trickled from her mouth as the man slapped her again. How many times now, three? She didn't care. She didn't care at all. Whitney knew the alternate personality was just a ruse; it wasn't like those other times. She had no idea how she knew, she just, did. Several slashes were cut into her arms, but she wasn't troubled. No, not in the slightest.

She had already come to terms with the fact of her immediate death, that was why she sent Tony away. He didn't need to see this. It was better off this way; he could live his life without ever knowing how she died, or how much she suffered. Hopefully, he would get everything she owned...but that was just a hope. Her parents would most likely keep all of her things, but perhaps they would give something to him. A little memento maybe, like one of her orange sweaters. She was always cold for some reason, and long-sleeves helped. Tony frequently complained about that, saying that she should go see a doctor about it. What a sweetheart.

He was always worried about her, the darling, but after this, he wouldn't have to be concerned with her anymore. Besides, he had bigger things to focus on, and good friends to keep him company. Tony wouldn't be lonely, anxious, or sad when she was gone. Would he? Another electric shock entered her system, but it didn't speed things along. The man wanted her to die slowly. She didn't mind dying, it was rather peaceful the last time, and Whitney wanted that. Sure, she would be forfeiting her dreams and aspirations, but what for? Serenity. A place away from torture, pain, and suffering. But most importantly, it would keep Tony and her friends safe.

Whitney was fully aware that she was covered in blood, but she wasn't all that worried. It hurt, everything hurt, but it didn't matter, she knew she going to die the minute Walsh dragged them into the building. But did it have to be so painful? She heard screaming, probably her, since the shocks kept coming. Her legs, her arms, her side, everywhere, it didn't stop. Why wasn't she dead yet?

"Having fun, deary?" An-all-too cheerful voice mocked her from somewhere far, far away. It had to be Walsh. Who else would call her "deary" like that? A rough hand pressed down on her knife wounds, making that screaming sound grow louder, "You're almost dead. Almost. You're fighting it. I know you're fighting it!"

A series of slashes followed soon after that horrible hand went away. They all went to her legs, but who would care? She wouldn't be able to have an open-casket funeral anyway. They'd probably cremate her or something. Not like anyone would want to see her one last time...except Tony...and Pepper...and Rhodey. They were all, so nice, to her. So, so nice. Sweet, kind, thoughtful, and nice. In an anticipated move from her executioner, she was caught off guard as the sharp blade penetrated her back, spiraling herself deeper into churning obscurity that would eventually swallow her up, and never let her out.

The edge sunk into her body like a flame; engulfing her spine as it struck the sensitive bone with a frightening precision. She could feel herself slipping away with each passing second, and more and more she gave in to the beautiful sounds and lights swirling around her, calling her home. Familiar voices of the past beckoned, welcomed, joining into the orchestra of indescribable melodies rolling about in the air above her. She wanted them to come down, but they were helping her up. The pain decreased as she succumbed to the calls, and seemingly floated out of her self-conscious, into whatever other world was opposite hers.

Her soul hovered above the room; she could see herself (which was incredibly strange), Walsh, and...Tony and Rhodey with the War Machine armor. Oh no, Tony saw her, he couldn't see her like that! He looked hysterical, frantic, frightened, and exceptionally pale. The poor dear. Everything down there was chaotic, turning into a blur actually, and she kept going up and up, the view of her only love growing weaker and weaker. But it was peaceful up there, so reposeful, and calm. She liked it. Even if she couldn't see what was going on very well.

There was some kind of fight, she knew that, but Tony wasn't in it. He was by her side. Didn't he know she was gone? He was crying; tears flowed down his flushed cheeks as he pulled her limp body up into his arms, cradling her like a baby. Good thing she closed her eyes. He was saying something, and stroking her hair, the moisture still making its way down his face. Wait, he was all wet! His dark hair was matted to his head, his clothes clung to his body, and water dripped from his figure like rain. What happened to him?

She tried to say his name, but nothing came out, and she couldn't move either. Tony looked so distressed and pained, like he...he couldn't live...without her. She couldn't die, she couldn't leave him like this! Tony could never suffer from anything, and especially not like she had over the years. God knows he didn't deserve it, but why was He taking her away now? She had to get back to him, get back to that life, even if it was filled to the brim with sadness and pain, because Tony was there. Her Tony.

_I'm so proud of you._ A familiar voice dissipated the singing chorus, Maria. _This, all of this, happened for a reason. You will remember these years forever as you live your life, and I hope you take the lessons to heart. A harsh lesson, maybe, but it's something you had to learn. Some things down the road will be hard, maybe even harder than what you've just been through. You have to be brave, but most of all, you have to love. No matter the hardship, no matter the pain, no matter the sadness, you have to. And I can promise, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. You will always be my little girl, Whitney. I love you. Love Tony for me._

Without so much as another word, Whitney was thrust back into her body in a blinding flash. The fire in her back was unbearable now; it seared and burned like she was encompassed with a wildfire. She coughed, blood wetting her mouth as she tried to raise her hand, to touch his cheek, but it only moved an trifle off the ground. She wanted to touch him, just for reassurance, in case he was a mirage. Something she hoped for, that could disappear into the darkness. In case he hated her.

"Don't leave me, don't go, please don't go, I need you." he pleaded, pressing his hands into a particularly nasty wound on her shoulder.

He needed her. Tony needed _her!_ She was the light of his life, as he was hers, and they would never go away from each other, just like they vowed a year ago. Tony loved her, Whitney _Stane;_ he fell in love with her, after all those years of watching, and hoping, and waiting, he actually fell in love with _her._ The pain was rough, but she would make it, she had to make it for their sake. She found someone who loved her, who would care for her, who really, truly adored her, and didn't mind her faults. Because she was human. She tried to smile, but only a grimace curled her lips. This was worse than torture, but hearing Tony so passionate was worth it. She loved him more than life, than the possibility of a suffering-free place, even more than the prospect of Heaven. He was her reason to live, and from now on, she was going to do just that. With him.

Now if only they could get out of there.

His careful, gentle hands pressed onto a particularly nasty wound in her shoulder. "Hang on, we'll get you to a hospital soon! I love you, sweetheart." he smiled down at her, and it was as if an angel had come down and gave her peace through that tiny gesture. It calmed her. Along with something else, a second voice. The same one from before had come to join in the fray, only this time, it was accompanied by a figure.

Her Momma. Her original and favorite mother.

Cropped ebony hair stopped just above her shoulders at a near-perfect length, small waves rippling through the strands like a beautiful black ocean's tide. A white gown made her seem like a heavenly angel; it didn't cling, nor did it glitter, the clothing flowed like an angel's dress should. Deep, understanding blue eyes sparkled below the dim lighting she was under, making her transparent frame appear to twinkle. Her body was see-through, yes, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was just right, like Maria forever was, right on every decision. And now she was here to comfort her in the midst of suffering again.

"It'll be okay, Whitney," she soothed from beside her, "Just a little bit longer." Maria leaned down to stroke her sweaty forehead, "Everything will be alright."

Only Whitney was able to see her, strange, she thought their mother might have made herself visible to Tony as well, who was still stopping the blood from escaping her wounds. Maria and Tony's voices blended with each other's, but either way, they were saying the same things. "You can make it, Whitney," they said, "Just hold on," and hold on she would. Nothing was going to tear them away from each other, not this time, especially after that experience she just had. The noises of a conflict died down into silence, and just the voices of her two favorite people remained. Soon, Rhodey's voice added to them, a bit deeper than normal, but that was expected.

"I have to go now." Maria informed her, a bright smile on her motherly face. "You'll be safe. It's all over, just one more trial and then you're through."

And Whitney couldn't help the small tear that escaped her eye as her mother, her real mother, disappeared again. She soon gave in to the sleep granting her sanctuary from the pain, because somewhere, deep in her mind, she knew her mom always spoke the truth.

x-x-x

Tony couldn't be happier; his Whitney came back to him!

And then she had to go away again.

They were separated at the hospital, since she had to have surgery or something, and his heart was acting up. He hadn't noticed. However, he wasn't all that bad, just a concussion, a few bruises, nothing that he couldn't handle. It was her he was worried about...all those cuts...he had a pretty good amount of blood on his clothes after handling her. Roberta brought him a new set, though. Which was good, considering that he always felt queasy at the sight of the stuff. He didn't with her, however, maybe because he was too anxious to distinguish it. Tony ruffled his hair even further as he sat up in the bed, placing his head in his hands, a sigh leaving his lips.

The past hours were rather a blur, not because he couldn't remember them, but because he didn't want to remember them. Bile rose in his throat every time he thought of all that blood, and all those doctors. He hated having people fuss over him as if he was hurt. Except Whitney. Now, she was allowed to fuss over him; he kind of liked it, having her chastise him with that sweet voice while she tended to him. He just hated those physicians. They kept him away from her, and said that he needed to rest, when in actuality, he was fine.

Sure, his chest felt tight, but he would okay. Whitney, however, was not. She was his first priority; nothing else mattered if she was hurt, since she never did anything wrong, especially to deserve what had happened to her over the past years. And hours. Love and sympathy never mixed, like water and oil, but the two emotions affected him just as much when he thought of her. She was a precious gem, and on the inside, she was cracked. Whitney was a rare diamond to him; something that needed love, care, and comfort. She needed a warm embrace, someone to keep her warm, to keep her safe, and secure. The minute those doctors let him go, he'd be off to her room like a shot.

Tony groaned in frustration, and buried his head in the pillow; it smelled like disinfectant. He hated hospitals. The sound of a close door opening instantly brought him to a sitting position, steeled for something with green eyes. They were pairs of hazel and brown instead. Rhodey and Pepper kept popping in from time to time, usually with a snack, but this time, it was different. He could tell; he'd been friends with them both long enough to know whether or not they were upset, and those two were definitely troubled.

Letting out a sigh, he let himself relax. "What's up, guys?"

Pepper shuffled a foot before turning to Rhodey. "You tell him."

He looked to his childhood friend, "Tell me what?"

"I'm not gonna tell him, you do it." Rhodey protested, earning a glare from Pepper, of which he earnestly returned.

"Will somebody tell me what's wrong?" Tony arched an eyebrow, "Is it Whitney?"

"She's fine, really, no problem." he waved his hands, as if brushing him off.

His mouth went dry, the moisture all collecting on his hands and forehead. "Somebody's gotta say something!" a desperate emphasis affected his words. If something was wrong, and most likely it was, he had to know. He had to know if she was dying, so he could be with her. If Whitney was already dead...then he would be, too.

Pepper shuffled her feet again, not looking at him as she murmured, "They had to do surgery. She's been in there for over an hour."

"How is she?" he asked in a normal voice, trying to gather back his scattered thoughts.

They both carefully approached him, and sat down on the white-sheeted bed, their eyes thoughtful and sympathetic.

Pepper opened her mouth, and began to speak, "You know about the broken stuff, but she had some other bone damage, too. They have to set it up so it'll heal, that's why it's taking so long."

He glanced between both his friends, his brain calculating through the possibilities of what might have happened to his girl that made his friends so that way. It had to have been something awful, and the only thing keeping him from jumping off the bed and into her room was the aching pain in his head.

Then...it hit him. Like an asteroid.

Nothing could illustrate how low Tony sank in that moment. Tears threatened to flow down his paled cheeks as he fisted the blankets with a grip that made his knuckles turn just as white as his face. "I know. My dad tried to invent a cure. I know what it is." he revealed, releasing the sheets to rub his ghostly white hands over his knees. "How'd it happen?"

"Whatever that guy did to her, it messed up her spine pretty bad." Rhodey informed, a sensitive look in his eyes that made him worse. Pepper looked at him with a pitying expression as well. All he wanted was for them go away, and leave him alone, so he could wallow in his misery. But that wouldn't make Whitney better.

Tony squeezed his knee-caps, fighting with the emotion building up in his stomach. "She doesn't deserve that. It's all my fault. What kind of a hero am I anyway? I can't even...stop this from..."

Pepper placed her hand on his shoulder, "Don't beat yourself up, it's not your fault!"

"Yeah," Rhodey did the same on his other. "In the grand scheme of things-"

"Screw the 'grand scheme of things!" he lashed out, startling both his friends. "She's in some operating room for nothing! There is, no, cure! None! She's gonna be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life!" Tony's chest heaved, and then he swallowed the extra moisture flooding his mouth, calming down. "She's seventeen...we...we're not even adults yet. It's unfair. That's all she ever got. And now...now she won't even be able to walk. How...how is that...I don't get it."

"If it makes you feel any better, she'll be able to move from the waist up." Pepper tried to encourage him, 'They said she could even walk again if she tried. There was a lot of damage, it's kind of a miracle. They said it could've been worse. Like, she could've lost feeling in her arms, or feet, or hands, or toes. Maybe even from the neck down! She should've died, Tony, really. She shouldn't even be here in the first place...she's lucky." she added, a tone infiltrating her voice that he didn't understand.

"What am I gonna do?" Despite Pepper's efforts, Tony was still unconvinced, and in a state of severe depression. "What's she gonna do?"

"You're an inventor, right?" Rhodey pointed out, his voice firm.

"Yes?" he looked at his friend with a questioning expression on his face.

"Then invent something to help!" Rhodey almost cuffed him on the ears, but stopped about halfway. Thank goodness. "You said your dad was working on something?"

He gave Rhodey a warning look, telling him to back off a little. Tony did not want to be swatted over the head any time soon, since his sinuses were at work with the sole purpose of making him miserable. "Yeah...uh, a brain, computer interface, sort of." he closed his eyes, straining to remember exactly what his father tried to accomplish. "He had the idea of putting it on the temple of the head, then a signal would-"

"Don't think about it, do it!" he opened his eyelids at the sound of Pepper's encouraging words. "But when you get discharged...see Whitney first. I would get cabin fever if I was going to be stuck in a hospital room for as long as she is. Besides, I think she'll like seeing you." she elbowed him in the side, giving a small wink to go along with it.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, when out of nowhere, a thought popped into his mind. His pockets felt empty, eerily empty, like something very important was supposed to be there, and it wasn't. Like a black object, designed in a sort of square, kind of soft and smooth, with another piece inside it. It was pretty essential for something or other, it was a gift, and meant something that would affect him and Whitney for...oh...snap.

Tony began frantically checking his pockets, "Oh no." he muttered, his eyes widened.

"Oh what?" Rhodey lifted a dark eyebrow.

"Oh no." he ceased his searching, and stared at the white wall. Horrified. It took weeks to find one jewelry store that would take him seriously, and that ring was engraved, too! She was beyond worth it, but he wanted that specific one for ages. It was perfect, and now he lost it. That_ freak_ had it, somehow, someway or another, that creep had her ring. If he got his hands around that weasel's neck...there would be a murder.

"What?" both his friends persisted.

"Uh, my phone." he lied; hopefully they'd believe him.

Pepper opened her pink pouch, and plucked out his phone, holding it up. "You mean this?" she tossed the white object to him; he caught it, and placed it back in his pocket. "You lose more things than my grandmother. And she's ninety-four!"

"How'd you-never mind, I don't wanna go to jail." Rhodey put up his hands, and Tony stifled a laugh as he watched his two humorous friends interact.

"I pick-pocketed it from that guy. You know, the weird one we talked to downstairs? He had it! Who knew? Well, now you're both going to jail with me. Accessories after the fact."

"Why'd I have to ask?"

For the first him in hours, he let out a harsh chuckle, but still, his mind drifted into distant memories of Whitney, and their times together. If there were ways to help her, by hook or by crook, he'd see his girl through. No matter the cost.

Love was, indeed, a highly powerful motivator.

x-x-x

Désirée refused cry; her daughter needed strength, not weakness. Her stomach clenched as she watched her baby girl acting so brave, as if she had no other choice but to be strong. She used to be a tiny, holding baby, who would cry if she didn't sleep in a laundry basket, now she was all grown up. Now, she was a beautiful young woman, still as innocent as a child, but yet, changed and different from the girl she met months ago. Almost as if her impeccable view on the world wasn't the same anymore. It only happened once in a person's lifetime, when they learn too many lessons of the society around them, then they truly understand that the universe they revered, is dark, cold, and terrifying. Her baby girl had a few more years left, but she didn't have them now, she wasn't a child. Not any longer.

Her daughter shivered under the covers, staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes, but they never fell. They just welled up in her shining blue orbs, never spilling over, just staying there. It was too painful to watch. Désirée stroked her daughter's forehead with her thumb, brushing back the stray hairs. She came back from surgery over an hour ago, slept for a little while, but woke up sooner than expected. They had given her anti-anxiety medications, just in case she might have a breakdown. If she did, it would be disastrous for her health. So they said. All she wanted was for her angel to be okay again, to be that happy girl she saw during those months they spent together. She missed that. Having Whitney by her side, like a daughter, going shopping, helping her with homework, teaching her things. Especially about how men weren't always what they seemed to be. They were sneaky little devils, and since her baby was in a relationship (so she gathered), that topic needed to be covered.

Somehow, her sly little girl would often steer the conversation away from its original purposes, to her and her ex-husband. Her father. Not that she didn't have a right to be interested in how her parents were getting along, it was just that they weren't getting along. They weren't even trying. How was she supposed to explain that? In everything she discussed with him, they ended up in an argument, or a "heated discussion." She hated the word "argument." It wasn't strong enough to describe the still very prevalent animosity they had when they fought. Verbally, of course. Now, they made a rule never to "discuss" things when Whitney was around; she was rather hopeful that they would get married again. Highly -and she stressed highly- unlikely. At first, she thought that would be nice, them being a family again...then she was reminded of just how obnoxious, unemotional, and distant Obadiah was. And there was no way she would live with that again.

She had no clue how Whitney put up with it for so long without going completely mad.

Her little girl's eyes flickered over to hers, "Is Daddy here?" Whitney asked, her voice laced with fear.

"He'll be here soon." she answered, then added under her breath, "He'd better be."

Whitney turned thoughtful, "Tony? I-is Tony okay?"

"I think he's just fine." she squeezed her hand.

"Today, well, yesterday was our anniversary." her daughter glanced away for a moment, before returning her earlier gaze.

She pressed her lips together, and then continued the conversation. "Was it? I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mom." a flimsy smile curved her lips, "We can celebrate another day. We've been dating a whole year now. A whole year. I love him," she laughed a little, "It still sounds so weird when I say it out loud." her precious eyes sparkled with a joy that could only be described as adoration. "I think, I want to marry him."

Here comes the kicker...

"You shouldn't think about marriage so soon. You might decide he's not right for you."

"But he is!" Whitney protested, then winced, and settled back down.

"That's what you think now, but what about ten years from now? Or twenty, or thirty? I'm not letting my daughter get divorced."

And there goes the ball.

That last part, sort of, slipped out. Unintentionally. Désirée vowed never to bring up divorce, or any such topic with her daughter, and particularly now. Whitney couldn't get emotionally riled; it would interfere with her recovery, and perhaps further damage her mental state. Her poor baby girl was in fits when they brought her in, mumbling, and whimpering rather deliriously. Must have been the blood loss. Either way, her daughter's eyes looked deep into hers, searching for answers from a guarded position, as if she was afraid to find out the truth, but was rummaging around regardless.

"Momma, how'd it happen?" Whitney inquired after a long -and brutally awkward- silence.

"H-how did what happen, honey?" she stumbled over the words, the room feeling a bit hotter than normal.

"How did you and Daddy, you know, go away from each other."

"I can't say 'I'll tell you when you're older' now, can I?" she muttered, making Whitney laugh, and whisper an "ow" afterwards. "You really want to know?"

"Uh-huh. Really."

"Well...it's just that...we don't get along very well. We made a mistake, that's it. Nothing else to it, promise."

Whitney's eyes glanced to the ground, "Oh. Okay."

She went back to petting the young girl's hair; it never failed to calm her when she was little. Whitney was such an adorable little girl, with big, bright eyes, and a cute laugh. Do all mothers feel empty once their child was grown up? When she gave birth to the near adult in that bed, she wasn't able to see her baby for a good while. She remembered how Obadiah hogged her over in the corner, counting all her fingers and toes. He even got her a stuffed dog to put in her crib! Which was, in essence, rather irrelevant considering their daughter never slept in it. She preferred a laundry basket. But Whitney loved that puppy; she wouldn't go to sleep without it, she'd cart it around with her wherever she went, and even gave it a name. Mousey. She treated that stuffed dog with great care...until she lost it.

Although her daughter was kind and gentle, she had a tendency to lie about things, such as the year she entered first grade. Whitney was bullied by a few of the taller kids. She would come home with a bruise or a scrape, and quickly learned how to say, "its nothing," at six and a half years old. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Désirée wondered just how much Whitney was affected by that. Seemingly, not much, but she was their daughter after all, she knew how to hide things. Still, she had companions now, didn't she? Good friends, so she had heard. She wasn't the plague, but they treated her as such. Whatever the reason, from what her daughter told her, they seemed like nice company for her. Whitney needed good, friendly company. And courage. As of today, they both needed courage, but Whitney needed her strength, and by gracious, she was going to provide it.

x-x-x

The medicine surging through her veins was making Whitney tolerably sleepy. Well, that, and her mother's soothing pets.

Each attempt to bring back memories of the past hours consistently ended in a blank page. She could remember Maria's words, however. The words that said her troubles were almost over. Almost. What new trial was she allegedly going to go through next? Well, whatever the trouble, there would be even more scars to deal with once she was released.

And what was wrong with her spine.

They were keeping information from her, Whitney knew that, she was smarter than they thought. She knew something was wrong; the way the nurses' eyes looked at her with pity, how the surgeon asked her all those questions, and why they pin-pricked her, well, rear end. That hurt. At any rate, something was horribly wrong, but no one told her what! She wanted to know why her legs weren't moving properly, why she was scheduled for another x-ray, and goodness knows how much she wanted to know why the heck they poked needles in her rear. Those were cold needles! She was a naturally curious girl; being around Tony all the time influenced that trait more than anything. Which was more than worth it.

The simple pine door in her small room opened without warning, tediously so, to reveal her weary father, who looked as if he hadn't slept in a while. His suit was somewhat unkempt as well. Was this her doing?

"Daddy!" Whitney tried to lift herself up from the bed, but a shooting pain jolted up her spine like a runaway train, causing her to fall back down.

Her mother stroked her hand, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see her give him a look. Whitney understood that look. So, her father approached her, and drew a chair from the opposite wall to sit beside her bed. All the while, she smiled at him, trying to wipe that anxious glimmer out of his eyes. It didn't belong there.

"How," her father swallowed, "How are you doing?" he asked, tentatively grasping her other hand. Her father, still, never, ever touched her hand. Was she the one going crazy, or was he? It must have been the medicine; they gave her enough to make an elephant loopy.

"I'm okay," she answered with a lopsided smile, "My back feels weird though."

"Then why is she lying on it like that?" her father demanded, getting up from his chair. "Does it hurt?" he asked, a storm now brewing in those eyes. That was more like it.

"A little." she answered, a childlike tone to her voice.

"I'll go have a talk with whoever runs this place." he tugged down his suit coat, straightening it. Well, whoever ran this hospital was certainly in for a time. Watching this was fun!

Her mother let out a delayed huff, "Now-"

"I am privileged to make a scene if I want to." her dad responded, as if he knew exactly what she was going to say, and stalked off out the door.

"I'm too old for this." her mother sighed and followed him right out into the hallway.

Her parents were funny...that might be the medicine, too. Oh, she was loopy. Very loopy. She was so out of herself, that she hardly gave notice to the nurse who came back in the room. She looked like a distorted hippopotamus to her.

"We're taking you to the x-ray room, okay? It'll be about a minute." A hoarse voice informed, and she was promptly lifted off the bed, placed on some kind of chair, and wheeled away. Why? Was she too loopy to walk? It didn't make any difference, besides, she didn't know why her toes didn't wriggle when she wanted them to.

After a few seconds of being rolled through the pristine halls of the hospital, she finally arrived at the darkened room, and was helped to turn over. Since she was still in a surgical gown, Whitney guessed it was just a precaution, and she wasn't going into the operating room again. She hoped. They kept telling her it was going to be okay, or whatever nurses typically tell their younger patients. Only she wasn't a younger patient; she was a young woman. Well, almost. Why did people continue to treat her like a child? She disliked being pitied for her experiences - they were over. Over. They needed to be tossed aside, and never awakened.

The doctors spent hours stitching and cleaning her wounds, cooling the bruises, and such. She had lots and lots of bruises, cuts, lashes, the works. It was over though, so there was no sense in delving back into the suffering just to blunder around in it. She could recall the smell of blood if she tried hard enough, but she wouldn't, not as the nurse repositioned her for another x-ray, a third one, on her side. They were taking quite a few of them, weren't they? What was wrong with her?

Whatever happened, at least her and Tony were safe. At least he didn't get what she did. If this happened to him -she'd never leave his side for one thing-, she would forever blame herself for his injuries. Besides, his heart couldn't take the strain. He'd die. He couldn't die like that. Tony deserved a good, long, wonderful life, and she was going to lead him through it. As much as she could. He was her reason for living during those torture-filled nights, stuck in that cold, damp basement. If she didn't have his strength with her, she would never have made it this far. He was her life, her soul, and by golly if she didn't take care of that crazy, hardheaded boy, he would get himself into so much trouble, no amount of technology or intelligence could get him out. Boys were like that. He was careless, selfless, sweet, and wonderful. All she wanted was to see his face, feel his arms around her, and hear the softness of his voice as they carted her back into that tiny hospital room, where her father was fuming and her mother was trying to calm him down. While crying.

Her mother brushed aside the tears in her eyes before stepping over, "Whitney, honey, everything's fine. Don't worry." Désirée touched her hair, pushing it back behind her ears like mothers do. "Daddy brought you some new clothes. Come on." she took her wheelchair, and pushed her back towards the bed.

Whitney clutched her familiar orange sweater, but sadly, her white skirt was not among the array of clothing. Understandable, but she preferred skirts to pants any day. They were prettier, complimented her figure, too. Her mom took a brush from her tote, and combed it through her tangled hair after she changed into her new set of clothes, which included a very warm pair of socks. She forgot all about the coldness in her feet.

"There. That feel better? I can put it up if you want?" her mother said in a too-light-to-be normal voice.

"I want to know what's wrong with me." Whitney squeezed her eyes shut so she didn't have to look at her father. The way his eyes took pity on her, it broke her heart, but worst of all, it was pity blended with pain and fear.

"Whitney, I don't-"

"Something's wrong, and I wanna know what it is." she interrupted her father; she was that serious.

If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen her father step closer, and place his shaky hand on her mother's shoulder. "Tell her."

x-x-x

After a few hours of constant, and very persistent, nagging, Tony finally convinced the doctor and nurses to let him roam around the hospital. He had the whole third floor mapped out, just in case.

But he didn't want to stay on that third floor.

Their anniversary was ruined; Whitney was looking forward to the past day with great fervency, and it was filled with grief instead of affection. Somehow, he'd make her forget all the pain, and finally slid the ring in his pocket on her finger. Maybe. He hoped she would say yes; was there any reason for her not to? Several. They were young, but they shared a love so strong it was unconditional. Something most couples would never experience. But what of these past events? Would they affect her decision? Perhaps, he had better wait until she was better to do something of this magnitude. He was, after all, asking her to marry him. The more he thought about it, the dizzier he got, and it wasn't from the mindless wandering either.

This was big; marriage was forever, there wouldn't be others, it was just them after that. Them, and possibly a few children as well. He knew that marrying Whitney meant a reasonably large family, but that was alright, perfectly so. She would be a good mother, that was certain, she had a way with children that could demand respect, but projected love and understanding, too. Yes, she would be a fantastic mother to their kids. Theirs. Everything would become theirs, not his or hers, theirs. As a married couple, every day would be spent together, save a few hours apart when he had to work. Or them both, if she wanted it that way, though he didn't see the need for it.

Tony traversed across the plainly decorated lobby, flanked by his friends, who chatted with him, and he chatted back. As best he could. They were trying to keep his mind off Whitney, that was clear, but didn't they know that when you loved someone, your thoughts always drifted to them? In fact, he would be worried if he didn't think about her. That would mean he didn't care. And he wanted to care for her forever.

Of course, the hospital they were admitted to was a rather large one, them being very influential and all. So, it had a quaint coffee shop, where the trio decided to stop for a sandwich or two. The Monday passed too quickly for their tastes, moving into the evening with a rapid pace. It didn't matter, Roberta and both of Pepper's parents were watching them like hawks from their own seats in the waiting area, conversing among themselves about the leaving time of the three friends, and other things parents usually talked about. They didn't interfere, however.

After a quick snacking, the team started talking again. Well, Pepper and Rhodey were talking, all Tony said consisted of fast, general responses. No conversation.

But soon, after a vast amount of thinking, he asked his friends, "You think I should see her now?"

"Yeah, I think you should." Rhodey nodded, giving him some confidence.

Glancing at the counter display, which was brimming full with sweets, Tony doodled on the tabletop with a trembling finger, "Maybe I could...you know, bring her a brownie or something, you think she would like that?"

"I think she just wants to see you." Pepper nudged him on with words.

"I'll go up there." he didn't look at his friends, but they gave glances to each other, exchanging information behind his back as he got off the high stool.

"Her parents are there." Rhodey's tone mixed teasing with sarcasm as he took another sip of his orange juice.

Tony couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Great," he mumbled, walking out the door, completely oblivious to the fist-bump Rhodey and Pepper shared.

Little did he know that his best friends were wiser than he thought. They've been orchestrating his romance with Whitney for a long time now, and they were well-aware of his intentions to marry her long before Rhodey discovered the ring. Not by accident. So, now, all they had to do was stand back, and watch the flower fully blossom at last. And not a moment too soon for their liking, either.

The walk to the elevator was a lonely one, since he normally wouldn't take walks all by himself. Whitney was always at his side. But Tony kept thinking anyway. He hoped she was able to speak to him - he needed to hear her voice, but seeing her would give him comfort, since he still required that visual confirmation to put himself at ease. There was a lot of controversy surrounding her diagnosis, and he had a feeling that it wasn't true. Whitney could recover from something like that; he saw the knife wound, there was no way it could have severed the motor pathway. Pierced it, perhaps, but not cut. It was one, foul stab, no slash at all. After that lonely stroll ended, Tony reached the door, and his hand went to the silver doorknob, then stopped dead. What of her parents? He couldn't clash with Stane now, not while she was sick, it just wouldn't be right. Whitney's well-being and happiness trumped all his person afflictions. He was going in there, whether her father liked it or not.

Upon opening the door, Tony was greeted by the surprised faces of the entire Stane family. Which was sort of awkward. He centered his gaze on Whitney's, and refused to turn his head right or left, for fear of catching the eyes that bored into his skull from the corner. Shuffling towards her, she smiled a sort of weak grin, looking absolutely exhausted.

Whitney brushed back her hair, and swallowed. "Hi." her voice cracked, "What're you doing out of bed?"

"I got out on bail." he tried to make her laugh, but only got a faked, airy chuckle in return. Weird. "How're you doing?"

Something he said must have set her off, because that bottom lip of hers began to quiver, and soon, she burst into tears. "Oh, Tony, I'm sorry!" she bawled, full-out crying, and he jumped back a little, taken by surprise.

Shooting a desperate glance towards her parents, who gave him ones back, Tony gingerly patted her shoulders as she continued to wail apologies. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" he asked in a quick manner, squeezing her forearms, trying to get her to calm down.

She gulped back tears, "They said-they said that I-that I can't. That we can't." The sobbing endured, only this time, into his shoulder. Her hands gripped his collar with the force of a clamp as she cried and cried, showing no signs of stopping.

"We can't what?" he placed his hand on her cold cheek, and guided her head back up. He wanted to see her eyes. "Tell me."

"I-I-I can't have, we can't have a family anymore!"

"What's she talking about?" he turned to the parents in the corner, whose faces told him everything he needed to know. It was final, whatever happened to her, it left her unable to care for a child. The one thing she wanted most, she was denied. After everything she'd been through, that Frankenstein took something precious away from her. From them. If he ever saw that freak again, he'd kill him. For sure.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They said they had to. I had no other choice. I thought it wasn't that bad, but it is. It's worse."

"Don't cry. It'll be okay, trust me."

"Is it bad to want to feel a baby kicking? Even though it hurts something awful, I want it. I-I want to take care of something and-and cherish it. A little baby, ours, our child, and n-now I can't. I kn-know you want children too, don't you? I can see it. You're sad. I made you sad. I'm sorry, Tony!" Whitney broke out into tears once more, the sounds of her crying displacing throughout the room and hallway.

Along with the unmistakable sound of approaching feet.

The door flew open one more time, and standing in the archway appeared a young, and eager-looking, nurse, holding a faded yellow folder in her tight grasp.

Whitney ceased her crying just as she saw the dark-haired woman, and he helped her to wipe away her tears, being as gentle as possible.

"Is anything wrong?" Mrs. Stane inquired with a tone of hesitation.

"Great news!" the nurse burst out, making Whitney jump. "We checked the x-rays again, and...it worked. She's not paraplegic. They did fix the problem, and she's going to be just fine. With a little physical therapy, of course, you did have your spine, well, punctured. For lack of better words. I'm so sorry about the misdiagnosis, it was a mistake on our part, and we wholeheartedly apologize."

"Misdiagnosis?" Tony could hear Stane's raspy voice at a near shout, and Whitney's cheeks turned bright shade of red. He turned around to see him bristling with rage, almost boiling over.

"Oh dear." her mother sighed, obviously knowing what was about to happen.

"You might want to leave." Whitney looked like a ripe tomato; all red-faced, but he didn't take her advice, in fact, he had a few words to say to that nurse himself! Making his girl cry like that, over a silly mistake, too! He could be forgiving, sure, but this was inexcusable. Well, he'd say something if he got the chance. Currently, he didn't have the floor.

"You nearly sent my daughter into a depression!" his rant continued, now full-on confronting the nurse. "I'll have each and every one of you fired!"

"Daddy!" Whitney yelled to get her father's attention. Their family quarrels were always interesting. "Please, calm down. I'm okay." she insisted, while her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. There was never a dull moment on the rare occasions Whitney's whole family was together, and strangely, Tony felt like a part of it. However, the thought of being Stane's son-in-law made him shiver.

"Let's go downstairs." Mrs. Stane spoke in a strong tone as she shot forward, and clutched her ex-husband's shoulder, pushing him towards the door at a rapid pace.

"Make another mistake like this and I'll see to it that you will never have a job in New York again," her father pointed a finger at the pale nurse.

"Now." her mother gave another sharp push, and they were out the door.

The nurse took a deep breath, "The doctor will be with you shortly." there was no voice when she spoke, it seemed like she lost it, and as she walked out, her steps wavered. That poor nurse.

"Sorry." Whitney mouthed to him. "But isn't it wonderful?" That enchanted voice of hers returned, and she looked up at him with the same sparkle in her eyes like before. Under the moonlight.

"I knew it. You're gonna be just fine, Whitney, promise." he made sure to treat her with care as he hugged her.

"We're gonna be fine." she corrected, breaking from his embrace. "But you should be in bed. You know, resting? I forgot, you don't sleep, do you?" she shook her head as if inviting him to quip back. Too much of a temptation to resist.

Hiding a grin, he remarked, "I'm nocturnal."

Finally, she laughed, a real, genuine laugh. Her smile could illuminate the world if she tried, but it would always enlighten his. Hopefully forever. He didn't, or rather couldn't, see the dark circles under her eyes, or the red marks around her neck, all he saw was the sixteen-year-old sitting under the moonlight, with her hair shining just as much as her eyes. That innocent love, woven with their honesty, turned him into a melted mess. She would be happy, he would try his best to keep her that way, and everything would be alright. Although it was frightening; he wasn't sure if this was the right time, it also couldn't be more perfect.

"There's something I gotta ask you." Tony took both her hands, a brightness in his eyes. "Unless," he remembered that they were in a hospital room, with her returned just hours ago from surgery, "Unless you're tired."

"Nope, I'm good. Anything wrong?" the paleness of her face gave him cause to worry, though he became too excited to let it pester him.

"Whitney, I really, really like you. A lot."

"I like you a lot, too." a raspy giggle left her lips, "You're so cute sometimes."

"Really?" his head tilted as his eyes grew even brighter, then he coughed. "I-uh, wanna talk about us, for a little while."

"Oh, okay." Whitney cracked a smile, neatly tucking her hair back in place.

A sudden dryness overtook his mouth, but he swallowed repeatedly, trying to scrounge up the courage he had a few seconds ago. Without realizing what he was doing, Tony started to speak/stutter. "I-I don't have a ring, yet, but I can get one. I...what I'm trying to say is...see, sometime, you know, in a few years, whenever you want to, maybe, we can, uh...get married. If you want." his head was spinning in circles as he asked the final question, "So, would you...would marry me?"

Her gaze fixated on his, a steely expression on her face, and from her soft pink lips escaped the word he most feared. "No."

TO BE CONCLUDED

* * *

_I bet you all were expecting that. Romance stuff, and cliffhangers are what I'll always be awful at, unfortunately. Anyway, wow, that was the longest chapter I've ever written, I hope it wasn't too horrendous and awful. After all, it was dedicated to a friend. So, did I disappoint?_

_Continuing on, Shattered Glass is, now, over 100,000 words, and we have reached our twentieth chapter. I think a chocolate treat is in order, don't you? Thank you to everyone who's guided me this far! *Cough, cough* You know who you are, you awesome but evil person you. ;)_


	21. Chapter 21: Comprehending Perfection

**A/N:** _Three words: I. Hate. This. Chapter. Okay, so that was four words, but whatever, the statement is one-hundred percent true. Warning, this chapter is full of nonsensical stuff that for the life of me I couldn't improve. Sorry! I wanted to continue on further than the ending of the chapter, but I decided it was long enough and let the whole messy thing be. _

_And yes, the first part was originally included in the last chapter, but certain painful cuts had to be made you know...*sniffles* _

* * *

Whitney's stomach clenched, bile rose in her throat, and her hands grew clammy. She was refusing him.

"N-n-no?" Tony stuttered, the pain in his eyes breaking her heart to pieces. "I...I'm sorry...it was too soon, I know, it's only a year...but...would you...consider, maybe, thinking it over?" his beautiful face held such hope, such innocence, what was she supposed to do?

Tony was her only love, and she had to protect him, but she was also hurting him at the same time. Things were so complicated! Why couldn't they be sixteen again? When the times they shared were passionate and true, instead, they were now full of fear. He deserved better than a doomed soul.

Whitney lowered her head, being too ashamed to look at still excited boy above her. "You don't understand." she shook her head, "I'm not someone who does things like this so quickly. You should know that."

She felt his palm underneath her chin, and it was lifted to meet his eyes, which gazed down upon her like she was the most wonderful thing in the world. She wished he would stop. Didn't he see the faded bruises? "I want to marry you because I love you, and I know you love me too. You gave me something...that I never thought I'd have. You're sweet and kind and I'm...I'm always happy when I'm with you, and I want us to be together. Like we promised." he slid his hand to her cheek, "Just, tell me you'll think about it."

"I think," her voice faltered as she moved his hand away. "I think it's best that we stop, seeing each other for a while." Whitney forced back the tears as she realized what was taking place.

They were actually saying goodbye, in the worst way. She would never feel that touch, so loving and kind, a sensation that could not easily be forgotten. He cherished her with every kiss and embrace; he displayed true affection for her, despite the marks, he tenderly cared for her as if she was a delicate flower. Nonetheless, she belonged to another; someone who enjoyed causing her pain, and reveled in her suffering. It was cruel to demand his faithfulness when the man owned her. When she could never solely be his. It wouldn't be fair to him if she accepted, regardless of how much she craved to be his wife, for a part of her would forever be stuck in the past, while he dwelled rightly in the present. She couldn't ask for his everything, when she herself couldn't do the exact same. This is the road in which she had to travel, they had to go separate ways, there was no other option, she couldn't request anything more from someone so perfect. It wouldn't be right.

Tony's sharp intake of breath lowered her spirits even more. "You're-"

"You should go." she nodded towards the door, putting on her best performance yet.

His expression was that of pure misery; why did she have to do this to him? He tried to touch her cheek, but backed away. "Please-"

"You're boring me now." she interrupted him, and shifted her gaze to her sheet-covered lap, hoping that if she did cry, he wouldn't see the tears fall. Either way, her head spun around in circles, making the nausea in her stomach more than just a reaction.

"This isn't you, Whitney. You're hurting, I know, just-"

"What do you know?" The dizziness in her head released to her sadness as she glared at him. "Go on, get out of here! I don't ever want to see you again, now go!"

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry." he tried to hold her hands, but she yanked them away, "Don't-don't tell me to go."

Moisture welled up in her eyes, and a single drop ran down her cheek. "Just...just get out of here." she returned her attention to the sheets, and clasped them while the sound of shuffling sneakers moved farther and farther away. It was better like this.

Whitney held herself together until the door shut, then she broke down. Sobbing into the pillow, she whimpered into the sterile fabric, realization kicking in. He overwhelmed her, the man did; he defeated her. Each time she fought back, her strength had been crushed, like she was an insignificant little ant who just wanted a cube of sugar. A little bit of sweetness in her life, that was all she wanted, just a taste of what other people had that she so desperately desired. Love. Acceptance. And for a while there, life had her fooled. It had her believing she found what she searched for, until it yanked her sanity away in the cruelness of night. Who was she to believe she was brave? She wasn't brave, she was merely pretending to be, for her family's sake. Her parents and her friends. Whitney Stane was a failure, a joke, nothing more than a pathetic shell of a girl who never experienced the happiness she allowed to walk out the door. Tony had been her cube of sugar.

But she was a piece of worthless junk, undeserving of any affection, let alone his; she had been broken, put back together, and broken again. Did he truly understand what it was like to be so afraid of a human being? The nightmares crept about in her mind, like revenge-stricken ghosts, searching for a way to enslave her for good. Did he truly understand that as well? Nothing could repair her in the end; the man broke her, he made her his pet, he formed her into a toy. His toy. She just received what was coming to her, at the end of the day, she wasn't much use for anything else but death. Why couldn't she have given up back there? Because of Tony. Because she loved him more than being free of pain. It couldn't end, not like this, they swore to stick together from the time they were kids. He promised, she promised, they promised. Had she fallen so low as to break her own forced vow? She had to fix this, no questions about how or why, she had to, for their sake.

Maybe, she could make the best of her shortcomings, and transform them into strengths. Perhaps her life wouldn't be so dismal if she made an effort.

Darkness dissolved under the assurance of a candle.

She had her candle. Now if only she could get it back...

x-x-x

Tony's legs felt like lead as he shuffled across the tile floors, back to that coffee shop.

Whitney broke up with him, and he had no idea as to why. His pace quickened as water built up in his eyes; he was acting stupid. So what if she didn't love him anymore? So what if his world didn't care? A tremor started in his hands at the thought of losing her. They had been through so much, and the idea of going on without her ignited a harsh feeling deep in his soul, an emotion he had never experienced. Something inside him tore in half, to bits and pieces, with a few simple words. It was as if a part of him had been ripped away, leaving him with only half a soul. But she didn't want to see him anymore. They were getting along so well, what happened? If he was given the chance, he would change everything around, just so he could be with her, even only as an observer; an observer to a beauty, grace, and elegance that no one else in the world had. From now on, it would be like those days before, when they locked eyes in the library, but blushed and turned away. Only, he would be the one blushing, and she would simply turn away.

He recalled those days when they were hidden from the world atop the roof of the Academy, sharing secret troubles and a cookie, with their knees touching each other's in a silent wish. A wish that they didn't have to hide. His Juliet was afraid of her father's wrath, and he was terrified of the things that might happen. There were so many possibilities, repercussions, and consequences. He was frightened of them all.

Taking his hand within another, to make it stop shivering, he could almost imagine it intertwined with hers. He was pitiful. Life without her wouldn't be so bad; being single wasn't the worst thing in the world. But seeing her every day, knowing she didn't return his love, that he could never hold her under the stars and call her his angel, that was. For two years, his mind had been infected with blue eyes, and tender glances, loving smiles, and the goosebumps on her skin that popped up every so often. Whitney was so shy with him at first; blushes crept up from her neck with just a touch on her shoulder. Sometimes, when he tried to hold her, she'd move away ever so slightly, her hands trembling as she picked at the grass. Come to think of it, he was just as nervous as her.

It was strange to think back to the nights, those nights, to think of how uncomfortable it felt to be alone with her. How timid he felt around her, despite the growing affection. It grew too quickly, apparently. Only a year had passed, and he knew she was the One. The girl that was his soul mate had been right beside him for years, and yet, it seemed like yesterday. The childhood adventures they shared were indispensable memories: sneaking stray dogs and cats into his house, reading ghost stories to each other in the dark, and ticking off nearly every baker in Manhattan by "borrowing" their chocolatey confections.

To their credit, they thought the treats were free.

They were mischievous children when put together, but they made a great team. An unstoppable one. Perhaps even a team filled with affection and caring, destined for existence in the shadows because of fright. Someone might put two and two together, find out about him, take her away and punish his world for something of which she had no knowledge. That, was what he was afraid of. But, in light of past events, his fears became different: a steely gaze, put upon by emerald eyes that glowed in dark crevices, and a calloused hand that stole away souls in the night. He was afraid of those things now.

Unexpectedly, the elevator doors opened in front of him, causing him to let out a strangled cry of surprise. Inside the lift were his friends, Pepper and Rhodey, with rather enthusiastic expressions on their faces, however, those looks soon changed to amusement.

They stepped out, and Pepper inquired of him, "So, what happened?"

If only she knew.

Keeping his eyes to the floor, Tony shoved his hands inside his pockets. "Nothing." he said lowly, avoiding their curious gazes.

"Okay, what really happened?" Rhodey crossed his arms.

"Nothing happened, we-" he couldn't continue on; his voice wavered too much.

"Hey...what's wrong, man?" his friend insisted, and they both guided him into in an elevator, due to him letting a few tears bypass his normally solid fortification.

"She...I'm acting like a stupid...we broke up, okay?" Tony snapped at his friends, "Is that what you wanted to know?"

Pepper and Rhodey exchanged a look of wonder, and then proceeded to calm him down as best they could, until a sharp, girlish shout invaded their eardrums. "I'm sorry!" it said over and over again.

That screech filled with pain shook the lovesick boy to the core; it only belonged to one person - Whitney. Spinning around, he caught a glimpse of the shining satin that was her golden hair, and shimmering blue eyes nearly exploding with anguish. Then he realized she was standing. She leaned into the wall, and inched across its smooth surface with her hands, her legs trembling from the heavy strain. Behind him, he heard Pepper gasp, and Rhodey exclaim, "She's going to kill herself!"

That same torn part in his body reacted to the look on his angel's face, and he shot across the tiles to scoop her up in his arms, relieving the stress on her spine. "You shouldn't've done that." he tightened the arm around her shoulders as his friends ran up to them.

Her face was unbearably pale as she raised her cold hands to his shoulders. "I didn't mean it, I don't want you to go. Please don't go." she buried her face into his neck, the shivering breaths he felt along his skin giving him cause for worry.

Rhodey opened the pine door even wider, "We've got to get her back in bed," he asserted. "She'll get hurt, if she isn't already."

Tony carefully trod into the small room with her tucked in his arm, laid her body onto the bed, running his fingers over her icy cheek. "You're so cold." he promptly covered her up with the sheets, tucking them around her shivering figure with his friends aiding him in trying to make her warm.

"Don't leave me, Tony." the typically light timbre of her voice shifted into a child-like plea, almost begging for a way out of something. Was Whitney as frightened as he was? The man pierced a part of him, a part so deep and untouched; he could hardly imagine what agony she must have experienced. And was experiencing now.

His hand swept across her forehead, causing her to close those bright eyes. She was starting to heat up a little; her skin stopped feeling like a version of winter, but she still shivered.

"Maybe we should get a doctor or something? I mean, she did get up, and that's bad, very bad. She wasn't supposed to be out of bed for at least a week!" Pepper clasped her hands together, "Maybe it's not too bad. Or maybe it is."

"Some nurse said something about a doctor. He'd be here soon, I think." Tony kept searching her face while rubbing her forearm.

"Yeah, well, he's not here yet." Rhodey glanced out the door, "We should get somebody. Soon."

The loudness of approaching footfalls spooked Whitney, and so he began to pet her hair, whispering calming words to her as the footsteps grew closer, and stopped in the location of the doorway. Turning around, Tony and his friends caught the eyes of the doctor, who gazed at them as if they were furniture that did not belong. He made them all weary.

"You have to leave." he ordered, and Whitney pulled at Tony's hand, wordlessly imploring for him to stay. In response, he gave her a slight smile, running a finger over her knuckles. She understood. He wished he could stay with her, just to hold her hand, give her comfort and warmth, but nobody here seemed to let him be for just a minute or two. This hospital was overflowing with physicians, and that one was rather creepy.

And with a self-conscious air, all three of them retreated out the door, each taking a glimpse at the girl who stared back, whose eyes begged for them to stay. Tony felt awful. Those incredibly soft orbs stabbed his heart, like they always did, but this time, with a different meaning. He felt guilty. So horribly guilty. He moved her, picked her up when she had a spinal injury. Any dunce knew that if you moved a person with an injured spine, you could cause permanent damage. He was such an idiot!

"Hey, you look pale." Tony acknowledged Pepper's voice, "Maybe you shouldn't be up."

"I'm fine." he fiddled with the phone in his pocket, twisting it inside his sweaty hand.

"Okay, you're sick. Everytime you say that, something's up, and you do look kinda pale." Rhodey also joined in, but he didn't respond. All he wanted to do was curl up into a tight ball, and convince himself that his Whitney was okay.

Tony drew his arms in closer while his friends helped him back to the room. An achy feeling overwhelmed the tightness in his chest as a sudden thought invaded his mind...

What if her condition _was_ his fault?

x-x-x

Whitney raised her head to take one last glance at her friends before they disappeared around the corner, and she sunk back into the mattress, alone with a doctor who could pass off as a gravedigger if he tried. Although young, he was quite the unemotional type, or so he appeared to be.

"Okay," the doctor closed the door, "How are you doing?" he asked, flipping through the chart in his hands.

"I-I feel k-kind of cold-d." Whitney raised herself to a semi-sitting position, despite the shooting pains in her spine avidly discouraging her.

"That might be because of the anxiety medication, I've expected that." his eyes kept to the folder as he walked up to her. "Do you always stutter?"

Whitney sighed, chills running over her bones. "Y-ye-" she took a deep breath, "Yes."

"Good." he nodded his head, still not looking up at her. "About the meds, though...we have to stop them, they're too much for you to handle at your age without problems, and you don't need that right now. So, I've already talked to your parents, they said okay, and we're going to let them wear off. Sound good with you?" the doctor finally took a glance at her, and she noticed the green tinges in his eyes. It unsettled her.

She swallowed, and shrunk back into the pillow, forcing herself to relax. "Sure." her hands felt warm compared to the rest of her body. "One question."

"Go ahead."

"Can I have something to eat? I haven't really had anything for, like, a day, so...I'm starving over here. Literally."

"No problem, but it has to be very light so we don't upset your stomach." he touched her shoulder, and she bit back a whimper. "Let's take a look at those eyes of yours." the doctor spoke lightly as he retrieved a medicinal flashlight from his pocket. Strangely, a sudden fear grasped her heart like a weed, sucking all the life from her sickened body. It was that stupid light, along with those eyes. "Don't flinch away, alright? Its not going to hurt you." he scolded, shining the brightness much too close. A memory kept stirring in her mind, awakening, over a stupid flashlight. Why was she afraid of that? On the other hand, was it the man holding that light? Most likely the latter. Was she so pathetic that even the color of someone's eyes disturbed her?

"Um," she swallowed, "How long do I have to be stuck in here? Can I...go outside, or something?"

"No," was the simple answer, "You need rest, and lots of it. The sooner the better, too. If you're exhausted," he re-placed the flashlight in his pocket, "Then your body's more prone to infection and all sorts of viruses. No matter how much we clean around here, there is always going to be some sort of virus that could make you even sicker than you already are. Maybe after a week or so, until then, you have to stay in here."

"Oh-'kay." her head drooped in thought, "How long do I have to stay here, you know, in general. Two weeks?" she refused to lift her head; it took all her self-control to keep from shaking.

She heard the doctor sigh. "Uh, we're thinking around, maybe three, four weeks."

"A whole month?" Whitney stressed, raising her head to look at the sympathetic doctor, "I-I can't be here for a month!"

"At the least. It all depends." he dug around in his pockets, "You were very, very close to losing your life, and I am not joking around," the doctor pulled out a penny coin, "Here. Like this," he showed it to her, "This is your vertebrae. Now, pretend it has a hole. Not a very big hole, but a pretty measurable one. It takes out old Lincoln here. And when there's a hole in your spine, there's no connection between the vertebrae. Like if there was around a dozen pennies all stacked on top of each other, connected by a few dimes. What happened was a few of the dimes lost their strength, and the pennies can't work together like they should. Especially this one with the hole called the L-five, right near the bottom, which works to move your legs from the hip down. And I know about your little escapade too. You set yourself back weeks, you know that." his reprimanding tone stirred up old memories of when she was younger.

"I know," she breathed. "Is it really that bad?"

"Unfortunately. I don't want to scare you, but if you keep on pushing yourself, I'll have to do the spinal traction, and you won't like it, believe me, no one does." he noticed her shivering, and his eyes softened. "That's if you keep acting like a marathon runner. Now, I have to do the corticosteroid treatments, that's a must."

"Does that hurt?"

He shrugged, "A little bit, I won't lie. But, the cafeteria always has a wide selection of snacks. If you get my point." her eyes brightened at his words. Maybe this person wasn't such a creep. "Alright now, you get some rest, your parents'll be here soon, and no more walking."

Whitney managed a frail smile, "I won't."

A relieved look took over the doctor's face, "Good girl. I'll send something up for you. And we have a special on pudding, too. As a treat, if we don't have any more little journeys."

"Thank you," her smile grew wider.

"Now make sure you stay off your spine as much as possible." he strolled to the door, "And I'll run the tests later."

She laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, images of her knight rushing through her mind as the sound of hinges creaking open and shut played to her ears. Was there never a time when this conflict within herself didn't exist? Could depression allow her just a moment of rest? The battle raged on inside her subconscious; should she have gone after Tony? Maybe it was better for them as a whole that she apologized. Or maybe it would have been best if she let him go. Either way, they were together again (so to speak), and her heart rate was back to normal, although going a hundred miles an hour from him carrying her like that. She enjoyed it. Being locked in his arms, having him care for her enough to cart her around to save her the strain. Perhaps their making amends was best for the two of them.

_"Is it, my pet?"_

That voice increased her pulse to an unbearable level, and the blistering pain in her spine didn't prevent her from sitting up in the bed, only to realize her bed didn't exist, nor the quaint hospital room she had grown accustomed to. She was inside that concrete basement, on that cold concrete floor, with her clothes torn extensively in the back - she felt the draft. She reached behind her, and pressed a palm to the skin, pulling back sharply when a warm substance coated her hand. As she examined the sticky red liquid, she realized that it was, in fact, blood. This had to be a dream. Whitney crept deeper into the corner, slinking up the wall as a nauseous sensation overwhelmed her stomach, making her gag. This wasn't real; the recreation was only a figment of her rampant imagination. No one told her what became of her supposed-to-be executioner since she and Tony were freed. She had to be dreaming. This area wasn't reality.

Until _he_ appeared.

Whitney's eyes darted to the stop of the stairs, his shadowy figure masked by the already darkened landing, causing her heart to beat at a dangerous level. Palpitations began all over her body while the man's heavy footfalls pounded the stairs, and she slumped against the wall, shrinking down to curl herself into a tight ball with her head resting facedown on her knees, just so she wouldn't see him arrive to her position. Gradually, those massive steps encroached on her surroundings, and every ounce of oxygen escaped from her lungs, permitting him to grasp her arm and lift her up.

_"Submitting already? After yesterday it wouldn't be surprising."_ his lips curved to show his yellowing teeth. _"It must have hurt."_

Whitney attempted to yank her arm away, but the man held firm, squeezing her limb until it took on an alabaster hue. "You're not real!" she insisted, but the pain originating from her arm and back made it perfectly clear - she wasn't dreaming.

_"I'm not real?"_ Walsh glowered at her, the habitual bitterness that practically oozed from his eyes dripping down to clutch her heart. His hand released her aching forearm, but grasped her shoulder instead, digging his fingernails into the skin, and drawing blood. She locked on to the droplets as they swelled up on her skin, cementing the belief of reality, but it couldn't be real. She had to be dreaming, there was no way around it, she was fantasizing. Her tormentor was in jail, he had to be, Tony wouldn't let him escape, neither would Rhodey or Pepper. If anyone would be able to locate him, it was those two, and there was no doubt in her mind that her friends didn't let him get away. The man was locked up...but right in front of her. _"Am I real enough now?"_ he sunk those daggers into her flesh, making her cry out in pain, and he clutched her wrist, preventing her from scratching him as she usually did. "Is this also real enough for you?" Walsh liberated her tortured shoulder to brandish a gleaming knife from his pocket. _"I wonder if this is real?"_ With echoing last words, he thrust the blade into her side, causing her to scream-

"No!" Whitney shrieked at the top of her lungs, compelling her parents to rush to her bedside, drowning her in questions of "What's wrong?" and "What happened?", and subsequently providing an overwhelming sense of relief and thankfulness. She had dreamt the entire thing. She stared up into their faces, taking in their worried expressions. "I-I'm okay now," she stuttered, shifting her steady gaze to each adult. "I'm not alone anymore."

Her mother brushed a tender hand across her forehead, "Of course you're not alone, we're right here." she encouraged, stroking her cheek. "Daddy just needed a little while to cool off, you know how he is." she ignored a look from her father, "Did you have a bad dream?"

Whitney nodded. "But it's okay now."

"Whitney...we have something to tell you." her father's mannerisms suggested a terrible thing had happened; she knew him well.

"Okay," she gingerly lifted herself to a more comfortable position, "Tell me."

"Take this first," he handed her a white pill, "You know what happens when you get excited."

Shrugging her shoulders, she took the pill and the glass of water siting on her bedside table, and downed the white menace with slight difficulty. "Okay?" Whitney indulged in her nervous habit, running her fingers through her own hair in an attempt to relax.

Her mother sat down on the bed, "Whitney, honey, you know that the media is going all over your story, right? And you know what media coverage does to criminal trials, I told you."

"What're you trying to say?" she smoothed out the covers over her lap, sweat building up on her forehead.

"They're skipping the bail trial, and moving it forward, so we can get a verdict with a minimal amount of...what's the word? Corruption by the news. You understand?" the wrinkles on the edge of her mother's eyes creased in worry. The usual.

"Uh-huh." she stole a glimpse at her father, who avoided her gaze, and glanced around the room instead. That, however, was not the typical behavior for her other parent.

Her mother clutched her hand, "That means you'll have to be there, for the main trying, to give testimony about what happened, and honey...we tried very hard to get the judge to say the...person, wouldn't have to be there. But he said no. He has to be there, as well as you."

Whitney gulped, fisting the blankets with her unoccupied hand. "You-you mean w-we're going to-o be in the s-sa-same room?" she stumbled, dismissing her father's warm hand on her arm.

"Yes. But there's going to be guards, policemen, all sorts of protection for you. They'll even have a service dog there to keep you company," she said in a tryingly soft tone.

"Last time. Those guards. They were killed...because of me. I let Tony get hurt, too. Am I a bad person, Daddy?" she looked at her father, seeking an honest answer she knew he would give.

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, "No."

She scanned the room, her eyes wide and inquisitive, which disturbed her parents to a high extent. "He's always with me...haunting me." she turned to both of them, "Do you know what that's like? To have a ghost following you?" Tears welled up in Whitney's lifeless orbs as she brushed her hands across her paled neck. "Even now, I can feel his hands..." she trembled, "Oh God, it's awful!"

"It's okay, you're fine. You're safe, Whitney, we promise." her mother embraced the crying child, rubbing circles into her back.

She released herself from the tight hold, sniffed a bit, then wiped her eyes, recomposing herself to at least appear like a lady. "I-I'm sorry I got upset." she apologized, stroking her arm as if it was a surrogate for someone who she adored. Perhaps a little too much.

Whitney felt her father's grip tighten on her shoulder, and she surveyed his features, trying to ascertain his irregular behavior, yet she couldn't discover any emotion hidden away in his expression, just a distant gleam. Did he feel sorry for her? Did he want her to stop acting like a complete, and utter idiot? Whatever the case, he was certainly staring her down. Finally, another emotion became prominent on his face - anger. She was used to that, but still, it was frightening. "Don't you ever be sorry about anything, young lady, understand?" he ordered, and her mother looked about ready to smack him then and there, but she knew her father's true intentions; to make her feel like she was worth something, in his own strange way. Maybe he was right, maybe Tony was right as well; she wasn't dirty after all. Maybe, she was still an innocent little girl, who would glance up at the stars, and imagine traveling to the moon in a giant sailboat, just to see if it was really that far. Maybe she was acting like a complete and utter idiot in thinking those terrible things. Maybe she was, indeed, an angel, deserving of a perfect love. She brought back her candle; why not shine it brighter?

With a roseate color forming into her cheeks, she choked out a hoarse laugh, and managed to trap her parents within long, warm arms. "Thank you...thank you so much," she squeezed them both, (much to their pleasant surprise), as a wet tear descended down her face, which soon erupted into a full-blown silent crying fest; something she was known for. It was almost as if she was baptizing herself in her own forgiveness. A sort of electric surge stormed through Whitney's body, nearly replicating the times when Tony held her hand. It was beautiful. She latched on to her parental figures, who were now starting to tire of her suffocating embrace (that, or becoming out of breath), if the light pushing back was an indication of their discomfort. So, Whitney released them, and smiled the most genuine grin since her re-kidnapping. Everything would be fine, as long as this mentality remained.

Whitney Stane was no failure; she was human. And all humans had faults. If hers was being frightened of someone who came close to killing her, then so be it. Everyone was afraid of something. There was no if; there was no when, not even a maybe. Perhaps even her phlegmatic father had been terrified of something at one point in his lifetime, though she wouldn't pursue that conclusion for a million dollars. Discounting the fact that she possessed far more than that amount already. A giggle made its way past her dry mouth, and a comforting peace swept over her like a tsunami, promising many more days when she felt just like this. Brave. Reasonably, perfectly brave.

"Are you alright now?" her mother asked, and she nodded vigorously, setting aside the dizziness in her head for a moment.

"I'm fine, wonderfully fine, but I'm tired." Whitney answered, prompting her parents to exchange looks.

Her father let out a small breath, "You get some sleep."

"Okay, Dad." she smiled, a bit wavering this time.

"Goodnight, honey." her mother pecked her forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, Mom. And you too, Daddy." Whitney laid back onto the bed, and let her careful mother retuck the covers around her body. "Goodnight." she whispered, closing her heavy eyelids.

And the young, previously tormented girl gave in to a deep, peaceful sleep, the ghosts of her past relenting. For a while, at least. No nightmares of green eyes, rough hands, or deadly devices. Just a dream of a new last name, a modest home, and five or so pairs of feet trampling over hardwood floors. The beautiful life she had always envisioned. Perhaps, after everything had been settled, she and her love would be able to pursue that life. The new last name first, of course. She would try her best to keep a positive attitude, and when she failed, she would have him to lift her back up again. If only she had seen it this way sooner! Hopefully, Tony wasn't resentful of what she had said - she really didn't mean it, or God forbid, she prayed he didn't truly think those words had any meaning. She _did_ want to marry him. However, the fear of her past held her back from the word she so desperately wanted to utter, "Yes."

Maybe, when the time was right, she would be able to tell him. Just not now.

* * *

_And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go wash my hands with some good soap, and rid myself of this disaster. I promise that I'll work hard, and make the next chapter better. Much, much better._

**_Until next time, you wonderful people!_**


	22. Chapter 22: Wavering

**A/N: Oh gosh, it's been almost a month since I last posted a chapter. So, realizing this, I kicked my lazy behind into gear and polished whatever this is off. I don't like it, since it isn't all that clear on what I'd like to portray in the last stages of this story, but I promise I'll clarify the message next time - I have it planned out in my head, now all I have to do is concentrate that into chapter form. My favorite part. Anyways, in my defense, I've been a little distracted due to the fact that I'm finally building up the gall to audition for my school's musical production company. Wish me luck?**

**On with it then...**

* * *

Tony couldn't sleep. At all. Not a bit. And the hospital wasn't the problem.

His friends (and a pesky nurse who talked to no end) had left over an hour ago, yet he was still wide awake, staring at the bland ceiling, and cultivating his intense hatred for the room he occupied. The inventor's insides churned as he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the dialogue that ran through his head. Conversations from the past had been tormenting him for a considerable expanse of time, demeaning and patronizing him over events that were long gone, but still, he punished himself willingly. He pulled the warm blanket up to his chin, begging the self-inflicted torment to go away, except it refused, gaining intensity with its beautiful images of the girl he loved, who in previous times, was perfectly healthy. A familiar scent lurked about in his nose - lavender. This could be classified as torture! No, he wouldn't think that, his girl was subjected to the real thing.

Those hands...how they wrapped around her neck like a vise, intended to kill. Her fingers, how she scratched at him so desperately. He could still hear the words she uttered as those hands, rough hands, grasped her throat. Squeezing and squeezing until she turned whiter than a sheet. Going even further back into his memory, he remembered how she protected him, made sure he never got hurt. By throwing her entire body over his, taking those punches herself. The sheer force of her weight pressing down on him whenever the creep's fists struck knocked most of the wind out of his lungs; he could hardly imagine what pain she went through. She was brave, but she wouldn't believe it, and that was her flaw. After all the denial, angst, self-torment and self-loathing, she still wouldn't take his words to heart.

A thickness built up in the back of his throat as he thought about her, it wrecked his stomach as well. What if things had gone differently; would she be in the same condition? He'd never forgive himself if she was permanently affected by his choice to move her then, instead of wait for the more experienced paramedics to take care of her. Despite that, every little detail of her life had to be changed regardless, no matter the outcome, since there would always be that remaining disability. Tony understood enough about the injury to know. He felt selfish, in a way; their lives together would have to be altered, but he wanted it exactly as they planned. Quite frequently, he and Whitney would lie together, with her head on his chest, dreaming aloud about their hopes and aspirations, what they were going to do as a couple, and of course, she often brought up how many children they were going to have. Five. He adamantly protested, since parenting kids wasn't his strong point and probably never would be, but he couldn't deny her something that brought her so much joy. Perhaps only one or two, definitely not five. But all those plans had to be rearranged.

With a groan, he sat up in the bed, turned around, and slammed his head (lightly) into the wall, repeatedly, imploring now for a little peace from his ever-so-dramatic relationship. Too dramatic. Couldn't this aspect of his life be worry-free? Of course not. In every other area of his day-to-day activities, there was always something or other to concern him. And now, Whitney was firmly placed in the top five. As number one. It was dangerous for him to be so attached to her, like time had proved, but he didn't care, he loved her. But his double life was suffering. Beforehand, Tony placed Iron Man before his relationship with Whitney, which ticked her off when he had to leave suddenly during their dates, or was late to anything. He didn't want to make her upset. In fact, he was pretty certain that everyone who knew her was weary of the stares she could produce when she was mad. That, and how she could body-slam anyone she wanted to.

He had no experience with that, whatsoever. None.

Tony ceased colliding his head with the wall to mutter, "Stark, you're an idiot. And now you're talking to yourself. Great." he affirmed his insanity. Was it possible to go crazy because of love? If not, then he could be the exception.

As he turned back around, Tony noticed something he hadn't in his worrisome state. A television set. Bolted to the wall in the corner was a small T.V, most likely for the purpose of keeping patients entertained while being trapped in dungeons that were blasted hospitals. He slid off the bed, slowly trotted over to wall, and reached up to press the button that turned it on. The tiny screen booted, and displayed a cheesy soap opera with horrid acting. A chuckle left his lips as he imagined what fun Whitney would have with it. He retrieved the remote from a crevice directly under the main controls, and returned to the bed, since his chest started to feel as if it were shrinking again. Settling back down on the mattress, Tony flipped to another channel, but this one held a more personal tone. At the bottom of the screen, obviously from a local news station, a print read, "Whitney Stane Case," in bold white color. He couldn't help but watch.

A newscaster spoke in the background, explaining in watered-down detail what that devil incarnate did to her, and a picture of Whitney was soon featured on the screen. Smiling. And that was all it took. He slammed his finger down on the button, switching to another channel with yet again an image of a personal matter. It was some romantic movie, and as he judged by the camera positioning, it was one of those cheap flicks. He nearly laughed again, but the current scene that played struck a chord with him. The couple in the film was holding hands, strolling down a tree-laced lane, and the actors looked at each other in a way that reminded him of the afternoons he spent with Whitney. Narrowing his eyes, he flipped again, this time landing on a particular violent piece in a horror movie. It didn't take him long to turn the whole set off. But still, even after all the self-nagging, her voice continued to echo throughout his ears.

Somewhat relinquishing control over to his emotions, he laid his head back against the pillow, and closed his eyes, allowing her gentle voice which persisted in his mind to ring like a melody. He recalled her words as something she had spoken on one moonlit night, quite a romantic one if he remembered correctly. Something she promised him.

"Just pretend they're for us. Like the stars, and the crickets, and the trees, everything, pretend they're all here tonight, because we are. And then you start believing it." he heard her say from a distance. "We'll always be connected with each other, like the stars, because you and me...we're different. No one else can have what we do. And I know people say that all the time, but I mean it. I mean everything I say to you." Tony felt an underlying urge to open his eyes, and when he did, a figure appeared, but it didn't startle him; she was too subtle. Nothing about Whitney could ever be alarming.

"You'll drive yourself mad one of these days." Whitney reached out a steady hand to intertwine with his, "You work too much."

That was the minute he realized he was not in a hospital room, but a home, another home. He had never seen it before, but it was as if he knew it all his life. Whitney had most certainly grown older, but she was still a beautiful woman. The wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes were a testament to how much she smiled; and those orbs were just as bright as the evening stars, but shined with worry; and her hands were still warm and soft. Everything about her face showed signs of slight age, yet she retained a child-like beauty and innocence that radiated into his heart. She was lovely.

"Promise me you won't work yourself to death, I need you. Your children need you, too." she held his hand as they sat on the couch, beside each other, and the smile on her face created one on his. "You know how those rascals get into it these days. I can't slow them down!" her happy expression betrayed her scolding voice.

Tony glanced around the simple living room, "Where are they?"

"They're in bed, dear. We still have to say goodnight to them," Whitney grasped both his hands, and he stood up with her, "They've been waiting for you since six o'clock."

Chills ran up and down his spine while she led him up the stairs. Light creaks of the wood signaled their approach, but Whitney didn't seem to mind. She guided him down an open walkway, which looked out to the living room. Soon, they arrived at a white door, and she opened it, giving him view of two little children, both dressed in their pajamas, playing with toy cars on the carpeted floor. The second the two saw them, they jumped up, and raced to give them hugs. They were such wonderful kids, both with varying shades of blue eyes; one boy, and one girl; one with black hair, one with brown.

He thought they were perfect.

"Guess what, Daddy?" the little girl stared up at him. Tony knew her name: Katie.

"What?" he knelt down to her level, just to look at her. She was just like him.

She gulped in a breath, a patch of dark curls falling in front of her face of which she promptly brushed away. He couldn't help but smile. "I get to be the angel in the Christmas play, Daddy!"

He felt his heart swell with happiness at his daughter's joy. "That's great! I'm proud of you, Princess." Tony hugged his little girl, and for some reason, a thankful feeling came over him, as if they were close to losing her at one time. He couldn't imagine it.

"Daddy? Daddy, I've got news too!" he heard a boy's voice, and released his baby girl, giving her a smile as he did. Looking over Katie's shoulder, he saw the brunette boy with the darker shade of eyes. "Mommy taught me how to...what is it, Momma?" his son, Nathan, gazed up at Whitney for an answer.

"Technical wiring." Whitney responded, a caring look in her eyes.

"Oh yeah! And I made a light, see?" Nathan plucked a flashlight-looking device from his pocket holding it out for him to see. "It's not very good...but I'll be just like you, Dad." he outstretched his small arms to give him a hug, a warm hug, and Tony accepted it, almost melting under the tender sincerity of his son's words and embrace.

After a brief hug, he let go, and a smile creeped up onto Tony's face. "Looks like Mommy's a pretty good teacher, isn't she? Hey, and you're not so bad yourself, you know. I'm proud of you, too." Tony ruffled Nathan's hair in a playful manner, since a little bird tucked away in his mind told him that it made the eight-year-old laugh. And it did. "Okay now, you two're getting to sleep, or else Mommy will whack me upside the head."

"Hey!" Whitney put her hands on her hips, using a tone that made both their children laugh. "Don't make me the bad guy here."

"We love you, Mommy." they chorused, giving her a hug.

"Mommy loves you too." Whitney bent down and squeezed the little ones, then released them, giving each of their kids a gentle push on the back to nudge them to their beds. "Now like your father says or you're going to be tired tomorrow. I let them stay up until you got home." she glanced at him for a moment, and he could see the undeniable euphoria in her eyes. At last, Whitney was happy.

Tony followed his wife as she helped the two in their respective beds, pulling back the covers, and assisting them in climbing onto the mattresses. He observed her caution while she tucked the blankets around them, as if their children were so fragile they would break with even the slightest touch. A smile curved her smooth lips, and she motioned for him to come closer with a beckoning of her hand.

Gradually, he approached his children to stand beside his wife. "Goodnight, you two."

"Can you tell us a story?" Nathan inquired of him in a sleepy voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck, tiredness settling in his bones. "Uh-well, I don't know-"

"Please, Daddy?" Katie implored with a tug at his heartstrings.

"Your daddy's tired enough, he needs some sleep too, you know." Whitney sat on her usual spot at the foot of the younger child, Katie's, bed.

"I think I can tell them a little story." Tony crumbled, knowing he would regret the loss of snooze time in the morning, but their enthusiastic faces were worth it.

His daughter reached for a storybook on the shelf in between her bed and Nathan's, "This one!" she exclaimed, which prompted Whitney to give her a warning about "using her inside voice." She quickly apologized.

"Hold on, it's your brother's turn now." he said in an authoritative tone, but made sure to keep a lightness in the way that he spoke.

"Okay." she snuggled back into the covers after replacing her book.

Nathan appeared puzzled for a bit, then brightened. "How about the knights again? I like that one." he smiled, and tugged the sheets upward.

"Okay, if Daddy's going to tell a story, you both have to get good and comfy, alright?" Whitney smiled and watched the little ones snuggle into bed, pulling the blankets over their shoulders. "Alright then." she gave him a wave of her hand, signaling for him to start in a partly comical way.

Tony rubbed his hands together, sitting down on the bed beside his wife. "Let's see here...how does it go again?"

"The princess and the knight in the forest." Katie whispered, taking full precautions to "use her inside voice."

"Right." he cleared his throat, and began a familiar "fairytale."

The time went by faster than he hoped, even if he was rather spent already. Nevertheless, seeing the varying expressions on their faces was quite a wonderful sight. He never stopped smiling throughout the whole tale; it was pointless to hold it back. Apparently, a more tame version of he and Whitney's biography in their teens was a favorite bedtime story. Not that he minded. The minute Tony finished, the children were starting to drift off, so Whitney got off Katie's bed, and took one of each of their tiny hands in hers. And she started singing a lullaby. If this beauty of life kept on as it was, he would melt into a puddle. Their children were beautiful, Whitney was beautiful, this life was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. A single tear fell down his cheek as he listened to his wife singing a melodious tune, a tune he recognized as a berceuse his mother used to sing to them both when they wouldn't sleep. She soothed them with her harmonic voice while stroking their foreheads, checking each one to see if they had closed their eyes. Once she had finished her song, Tony was near a breaking point, but he held together until she kissed Nathan and Katie's foreheads. Whitney stepped back to gaze at them, quietly clasping her hands in front of her, yet she turned to him with moisture in her eyes, making them sparkle, and whispered, "I'm so happy."

He was, too.

Whitney hurried up to him, took his hand, flicked off the light, and after stealing another glance at their slumbering children, shut the door. She made sure to close it gently so as not to disturb them. His wife was too caring; same old Whitney.

"Tony?" Whitney squeezed his hand while they trotted back down the stairs. "I have something to tell you."

He pulled her into his arms once they reached the living room, a bright smile on his face, and he moved to invisible music inside his head, waltzing with his wife who laughed a happy giggle.

"Oh, darling, you're crazy." she gave him a faked grin, and released her hand from his, pressing it against her back instead.

Tony's formerly glistening eyes deteriorated into a worried state, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she plopped down on the couch, and he followed, shifting her around so he could massage her shoulders. "I'm just tired."

He pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her stomach. "Now who's working too hard."

Whitney nuzzled into him, "It comes with the job." she took his hands, and laid them on her belly. "I have something to tell you."

"Go ahead." he whispered, sprinkling light pecks along her throat.

"Tony, darling, pay attention dear, please. This is important." her hard tone made him stop kissing her, but he held her close. "Sweetheart," she turned around to face him, "You know how I've been craving stuff for a while now? Celery?"

"I noticed that." he swept his fingers through her hair, "You hate celery."

Whitney shifted closer. "And you know how with Nathan it was donuts, and Katie I wanted fish all the time?" her eyes brightened, "Well, darling, a few weeks ago..." she dipped her head, "You remember how I got worried about the bleeding and all that?"

He cleared his throat. "You traumatized me you know. I thought you were hurt or something."

"And the headaches, and the mood swings, and that time I fainted in your office?" she tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

"And?" he pushed for more explanation; after all the years of them together, right now, it was as if she was speaking code.

She smiled, then placed her hands on his shoulders, a glow about her features. "Tony, honey, I started thinking, and-um, I took the test...we're pregnant. I took it two times. We're having another baby!" she searched his face ecstatically for a reaction, but there was none to be found, because he knew it had been so long since news like this reached his ears.

"It's been five years." he choked out, pressing his hands against her cheeks.

"I know. I know, but we've got a baby, she's right here." Whitney placed her own hands on her stomach.

"You want to tell the kids?" Tony embraced her, and pressed his lips to her hair, reveling in the prospect of another pair of footsteps roaming through the house.

"No," she shook her head. "Not until I'm sure I won't lose her, or him. I don't want them to get upset if I...not again." Whitney turned away from him, possibly to hide the tears he could see streaking down her face. Although, with her, it was hard to tell.

He cupped her cheek, and gently pushed her head around to look at him, a smile across his lips to reassure her. Using his thumbs, Tony wiped away the tears from her eyes. "Don't think about that. We're happy." he comforted, and slid his hands to the sides of her face.

"I have never been so happy in all my life." Whitney's voice cracked as she threw her arms around him.

And as he surrendered to her embrace, Tony realized their bud had finally bloomed. It was such an exquisite flower. But their moment was thrust into obscurity when his world blurred, accompanied by the failure of his eyes. It was a dream. He awoke with a sharp jolt, shooting up in his bed, but unlike his many past nightmares, he wasn't covered in a cold sweat, his heart wasn't pounding, nor did he have an acute urge to give up last night's dinner. With this supposed nightmare, he felt a desire to hug her, Whitney, to be with her, to comfort her, like he knew she needed. Perhaps it was just a daydream due to the fact that he missed her company, but he preferred to believe that it could be a precursor, that it could happen. Even though it was highly improbable. Too improbable.

"Like that would happen." Tony said aloud before clearing himself of the delusion, re-placing his head on the pillow, and drifting off to sleep. Only to wake up a minute later. So, he turned on the television again, and decided to watch that soap opera.

But he never laughed.

x-x-x

Dalton sat on the poured concrete bed inside his darkened cell, trapped in solitary, with no voices to keep him company. Drugs took care of them. The good point in all of it however, was that his brother wasn't there to scold and demean him. As if he needed anyone to tell him what to do, or that what he did was wrong, he knew that from the start. But it was too much fun! Hearing those precious little cries from terribly pathetic victims, watching their eyes widen in sheer terror; all of it made him feel so giddy inside, sort of like an adrenaline rush. Most likely it was. Holding such weight and power over helpless saps caused him to feel like he had control, that he had their lives in his hands, and that they were his to command. And for a while, he ordered her about, too. A smile crossed his face as he delved back to the memories of his pet - he wished he'd destroyed her more. They all needed to be taught a lesson! Dalton's hands fisted the thin sheets; he wanted to wrap his hands around her pale throat, and squeeze. Squeeze until she begged. He adored those pleas, they were his goal, to hear them over and over, especially from her. Her's were special.

The smile turned into a snarl, and he clutched the blankets even tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white. He should have done more to that little brat, made her suffer, beg, scream. He should have kept her in a basement, chained to the wall, like a real pet. Maybe even with a collar, including a leash, so he wouldn't have to fight her when the punishment came. She was a habitually bad pet, frequently defying her master by kicking and yelling, or in essence, fighting back. Pets don't fight back, nor do they speak. He should have cut her throat. There were too many things he could have done, such as broken her even more, until she was complacent, that would've been ideal. Wonderfully ideal. To think she was his, such a "willful" spirit, cold-hearted if he dared. And he did.

Taking a deep breath through his nostrils, he rummaged around in his pocket, and found the thing that almost didn't make it pass security. A velvet box. But inside the box was the real prize; a diamond ring, blatantly expensive, and on the inner side it read "Love is eternity." How charming. Dalton examined the pitiful object, flipping it over in his hands. It was meant for his pet. No one was going to be involved with his pet! He tossed the ring in between his fingers, insanity setting in.

"You never got the chance to see how miserable I can make your life," he rasped. "Someday, you'll learn the true meaning of fear, and I'll be there to watch you scream." his hand tightened around the ring, "I'll make you understand. I'll, I'll...you're mine. All mine. I'll make you my pet. I'll make you into what I want. Yes. You're mine," he laughed, then caressed the side of the golden object, as if it were her. In his mind, it was. "You don't have a choice." his demented brain kicked into gear, making him believe he was stroking his pet's hair, instead of the ring's smooth sides. Before he was interrupted. By that nonsensical security guard. Upon hearing his distinguishable footsteps, Walsh's mind snapped back into the real world, and he stared at the golden ring, quickly deciding to hide it. So, he stuffed it under the thin pillow that was on his cot, and shifted his weight to disguise to lump that formed there because of it. When the guard came into view, his usual loathing stare did nothing to deter Dalton's thought process. It was quite pitiful.

"Looks like you have a lawyer after all. Anything that brings 'em money, I guess." the guard shrugged, his voice that of an emotionless toad. "Everybody's takin' bets now. Me? I just wish New York had the death penalty. I'd like to see you in a electric chair." he mumbled, but it didn't faze Dalton one bit. There were certain laws that could be exploited.

As the guard proceeded to unlock the door, two more accompanied him, -fully armed with what appeared to be semi-automatic rifles-, and one of them said, "That's enough, Charlie, let him be."

The guard called "Charlie" placed the keys back in his pocket. "Humph. If he were tried here he'd get death row. Just makin' a point." he put up his hands in defense when the other guard gave him a glare. "He's all yours."

With a sigh, Walsh waited as long as he could before getting up, and following the guards like their fixed looks told him they wanted. He, and the watchdog group, traversed along the weary grayness of the Colorado prison; said to be for the worst of the worst. The cold, stiff walls of the underground containment area seemed to close in around him, which was its obvious intention, and the entirety of the sparse number of cells were all filled with equal or lesser bad hombres, though they were hidden by a jungle of metal bars and concrete vestibules. The journey was quiet, and all Dalton wondered was why "Charlie" said he had a lawyer. No one would take the case, or so he had heard. Whoever it was, though, certainly had his or her hands full from what he overheard the peanut-brained Charlie ramble on about. Something including insanity, he assumed.

After trotting up a few fights of stairs, instead of the elevator which was reserved for guards, he and the guards arrived at a steel door, of which one of his keepers nodded to a security officer, who opened the heavy barrier with a push of a button. With extreme urgency, the sentinels coaxed him into another concrete room, with a plastic-glass separation wall in the middle, and behind it sat a smartly dressed man in a dark blue suit and matching tie. An impatient air flew about him, from the way he bounced his foot, to his furrowed brows. It took a bit for the lawyer to look up from his watch to see him with the several guards, and he instantly straightened out himself and his tie.

"Finally," he muttered in a low voice. "You can leave now." the lawyer nodded towards the guards, who gave him looks of wonder, but obeyed, and returned to their posts directly outside the door.

As it closed, Dalton sat down on the chair in front of the see-through plastic barricade, and his curiosity spurred his eyebrow to raise. "And how can you possibly help me?" he demanded, a bit amused by the pale young man before him.

"I specialize in cases as hopeless as yours and besides, certain people have very good reasons to want your sentence to be as light as possible." the lawyer replied, bending down to pick up a amber-colored suitcase. "Now, first things first, about your plea." he slowed down his voice, "Not guilty by reason of insanity..."

x-x-x

The next morning, Whitney was subjected to all sorts of mental torment, such as listening to a scatter-brained nurse ramble about the importance of stillness in a spinal injury patient, but, there were certain occasions when she was required to move, lest a pressure sore would occur on her back, and from what she gathered, those things were awful. Her skin was damaged enough. But she was a busy girl; things to do, drama productions to lead, cute clothes to sniff out; she couldn't be stuck in a hospital bed! It was rather undignified for her to look so unkempt, especially in the hair department, but no one would allow her to smooth out her clothes. Heaven forbid the day she moved even the littlest nudge, or the whole world would come crashing down upon them all. How overly dramatic they were. A proper lady should, at least, have a decent hair brushing to remove the natural bird's nest-like qualities. However, her mother wouldn't provide any type of comb, not even a brush, since she was supposed to be resting, like a good little girl. She knew about the recovery process. She wasn't stupid.

Maybe she did act stupid a few hours ago, risking her health in trying to walk, although she did do it somewhat successfully. Even though she had to slide her way across the floor, even hunch her back a little, she still was able to accomplish her goal. That was worth something. Whitney pressed her lips together to form a thin line as she pondered over the un-matchable cards. Even solitaire was complicated! A sizable huff escaped her tightened (and now chapped) mouth, and she added on another set to the rows, becoming more frustrated by the second. Perhaps she should have picked another game, but what else was there to play with just a deck of cards? She wished she was little again, so that same imagination could build an airplane and make it fly, just with the few cards she had spread out on her lap. Nostalgia was rampant in her mind these past few hours.

She wanted to run around, enjoy her freedom, but not surprisingly, she was refused that right because of a psychopath's stab wound. They said it had to get better in a week, but her legs continued to have an eerie numbness inside them. She was tired of it. Whitney adjusted herself in the bed, all alone, rubbing her limbs in an attempt to remove the icy, non-present pains. A sense of fear gripped her heart as she continued to press down on her legs, but still couldn't feel the touch. Hopefully, this wasn't a consequence of her previous journey. The nurse came back earlier with an intimidatingly long needle, for the sole purpose of sticking the whole thing into her muscles to prevent them from spasming too much. Not that she cared. Then, the same nurse decided to stick her again, in the back, with yet one more long needle. Was there no person who wouldn't inject her full of some kind of medicine? It was beginning to be ridiculous. And on top of all that nonsense, there was no one to talk to. Not a soul. They came and went -usually with a cup of pudding-, and that was the end of it. She was starting to become increasingly bored. Except for the stack of cards her mother brought in; those kept her busy. If the loneliness continued, she would possibly start talking to them as well.

Whitney gathered up the deck again for another round of solitaire, shuffling them with her quaking fingers before laying them out in rows along her useless legs. Abruptly, a knock sounded from the door, and before she could give a reply, it opened, and she straightened out as much as she could, afraid of another needle, but this time, it was the hospital therapist, whose name was either Heather or Hannah; she couldn't remember. The therapist's dark hair nearly matched her tan complexion, and was tied up in a neat bun, as it was before. In addition, she wore the same classy style of clothing Whitney ever-so-admired (she would give her that) which consisted of a complete ebony ensemble: a black pencil skirt, a black turtleneck that wasn't very flattering, and black pumps. Whitney discounted the various jewelry pieces, since they weren't well-picked. But, the lady was nice, usually, though unhelpful. It felt good to get the feelings off her chest anyway.

"I was hoping we wouldn't see you back here. I mean it in a good way." she smiled, and Whitney forced one back. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Whitney brushed back a wave of her hair, "I'm okay."

"Just okay?" her head tilted, and a look emerged in her brown eyes that Whitney knew all too well.

"I'm thankful, sure." she rounded up the cards on her lap, focusing on them instead of the therapist. "I'm just...scared." her hands ceased all movements, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm so scared." she admitted her faults, being unable to hold them in. She figured telling a therapist was better than her parents - they didn't need to know how she failed them.

Within a few seconds, she felt the bed dip with added weight, and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What are you scared about?"

Whitney looked up at the therapist, "They're talking about needles, crutches and braces, and I don't know if I...I'm ever...it's hard." she turned away, looking down at her fists.

The dark-haired woman looked down for a moment as well - as if contemplating her next words, before lifting her head. "It's hard to suddenly have an injury like this, but there are people who can make it better, and with a lot of time, there's always hope that you'll walk. Speaking of that, I heard about the little trip you took." her smooth voice molded into quizzical emphasis. She was here to interrogate.

"About that," Whitney released a puff of air, "I'm not going to do it again." she promised, refusing to raise her eyes.

"Hmm, I would hope so." she heard the therapist take on that "I hereby declare" intonation. In fact, it was the same force she had come to despise within her own speech. The same one she silenced a long time ago.

After a bit of terribly awkward silence, Whitney decided to break the ice again, only this time, she waved goodbye to her daintiness. "There's a reason why you're here. Tell me." she stared at the aghast appearing therapist, who swiftly coughed, and recomposed herself.

Her chestnut eyes bored into Whitney's skull. "Now I-"

"I have a right to know." she pressed, bringing up her chin to play up her inflection.

It took a while for the counselor to collect herself -and possibly her words-, but when she did, her face softened and relented, therefore, so did Whitney. "After you...walked, you loosened the bolts they placed in your spine." the therapist presented all the cards on the table to her, and she immediately understood. Though she wished she didn't. The talkative nurse insisted she change back into the surgery gown for a reason, and now she knew why.

"I've got to go again?" Whitney's features sagged at the prospect of more surgery - it meant more time in the hospital, and that was something she wasn't looking forward to. "I'm going to stay here forever." she complained, losing all previous nonchalance, even swiping back her hair with a flustered attitude.

"As soon as you get better, you'll be in physical therapy, maybe a bit if rehabilitation just to make sure you're okay." Heather or Hannah articulated, unmistakably attempting to add a touch of hope to her present situation.

"But when can I walk? Really walk?" Whitney reiterated her fears, and rubbed her palms along her sheet-covered knees to rid them of the moisture collecting there.

Her therapist took a large, and unsettling breath, then she answered quickly, "Two years, that's the average."

Whitney clutched tangled strands of her hair, dropping her head from fright. "Two years." she gulped down a shaken sob, struggling to prevent the tears in her eyes from making their way down her flushing cheeks. "Please, no, disrespect or anything, but," she glanced up at the counselor, "Can you leave? I need to be alone."

The therapist's eyes sunk with knowing and strain. "Of course, Whitney." she said with a light, understanding tone, which brought a taut smile to Whitney's unsettled appearance. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Whitney nodded in response, and without another word, just a solemn look, the therapist named either Heather or Hannah left, the clicks of her heels against the floor resounding throughout the room, out the door, and fading from earshot into the hallway. It sounded even quieter, if that was possible, now that she had found out a little more about her prognosis. Perhaps that was the reason her father had been exhibiting such strange behavior? He probably felt guilty in some way, at least that was how she interpreted it, but throughout her years, she had never known him to feel that way about anyone, perhaps even her mother. His reaction to most events consisted of anger or frustration. Was she so special as to draw out those emotions from him? After all, she was his daughter, sort of. Even after all the months of her trying to enter his life as his child, he always seemed too busy, too tired, too worried, or something to keep her from knowing him better. And she wanted to know him better. She wanted to sit at the kitchen table and have dinner with her dad, maybe talk a little, instead of her getting home at four o'clock, and him at ten. Moreover, if she was to be so lucky, perhaps she could persuade him to take a different viewpoint on Tony, so that in the distant, distant future, any sort of talk about their getting married wouldn't cause any feuds. Her worst case scenario consisted of him cutting all ties to her, and that, was something she couldn't take again.

She stifled a little sob, her mind running through the days with endless fights and arguments, over the slightest things. The days when she had to have an appointment to see him, her own father, but thankfully, that rift didn't exist anymore. Of course, there were the times when he was too busy for her quick visits now and then...but as of yesterday, she couldn't walk, correctly, so there would be no more visits to anyone. Not on foot, at least. A silent tear made its way down her cheek, evidence of her perplexed judgement. It was hard to imagine life without a part of your body, until it occurs. For two years, perhaps more, she would be forced to live without use of her legs, something she never thought she'd have to face. Parties and galas would be out of the question - her "friends" had nasty gossip reputations, and showing up in a wheelchair would invite reporters and the like to start asking questions, lots of them. Especially the entertainment channels, of which she despised more than anything for their rumor spreading and lies. They used to like her.

Her public life aside, her private life would suffer the most damaging blow. With all possibilities considered, including if she was able to walk again, the corruption of her friends and family was irreversible. They were going to treat her like she was helpless, and she wasn't; not a soul could convince her that she was, too. Whitney closed her eyes, a twitch occurring in her upper lip as she fought to keep from bursting into tears. She had cried enough. Now was the time to be brave, strong, but most importantly, she needed to show everyone around her that she wasn't a victim, but a survivor. And survivors shouldn't depend on others.

Just then, a hesitant knock came from the door, and her eyes flew open. Again, another light knock sounded from across the room, and a sigh left her lips before she called out, "It's not locked," in a small voice. Soon after those words were spoken, the pine door cracked open more and more to reveal her father, appearing highly anxious.

"Hi, Daddy." she greeted with a lop-sided smile. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Her father edged his way into the room, seemingly unsure of how to continue. "Your...mother, and I were talking, and...we, want to make sure that, after this, at home, you're safe. So, I'm...hiring, some people-contractors, to, fix the house so that when you get out of the hospital, nothing...nothing would, hurt you. Sharp edges, and...everything." The frequent pauses in his statement proved he clearly didn't want to be in this situation, and she wasn't quite fond of it either.

Whitney quieted a laugh emerging in her throat. "Mom sent you in here, didn't she?" she suppressed a smile at the boiled down look of shock in her father's eyes. It was a rare occasion when her father displayed emotions other than aggravation or anger; those were his primary feelings, mostly.

A short time of echoing silence passed between them before her father spoke again. "She didn't want to make you upset. Are you?" he inquired of her in a straight tone.

"Nope," she allowed herself to express an inward tenderness. "I'm your daughter, Daddy, I wish you talked to me more, no matter what it is. I'm glad you came in here." Whitney searched her worry-wracked brain for more words to off-set the awkward ending she put forth. "I was lonely." she added with haste.

"There's something else." Whitney observed her father stiffen; a sure sign that he was uncomfortable.

"I know, Dad, it's okay." her cheekbones raised slightly, accentuating a graciousness which radiated from her features.

"You do?" he seemed confused for a moment, then steadied, much to Whitney's dismay. Though she didn't enjoy seeing anyone she was close to (even partially) appear puzzled, watching her father portray different, less stoical sides of himself made her chest swell with happiness. They were finally connecting with each other.

She responded with a sight nod. "I'll be fine, don't worry. It'll just...take some, getting used to, I guess." she let her head dip for a moment to recollect her thoughts, and then raised it back up.

"I'm...glad, you see it that way." her father, for the first time in their conversation, directly met her eyes, and she saw a sort of affection hidden beneath them. Not just any affection - but fatherly affection. Something so previously thought unreachable that she hadn't even considered finding such a long-lost emotion within him. Her face glowed with delight as he tentatively stepped over to her, concern written deep into his appearance. "I'll help you, with everything you need, I promise." his tender words seemed unfeigned, but she learned long ago that she could never judge her father's intentions by a mere speech. So, she examined his features, every inch of them, and from what she saw, he wasn't telling a lie. A euphoric happiness erupted deep within her heart as she embraced him with all her weakened might. Her father was finally realizing what she had two years ago - being cold and dead to the world did nothing to lift your spirits; it only hampered them.

"Thank you, Dad. You've helped me so much." Whitney continued to hug him, and to her surprise, after a while, he hugged her too. Lightly, but it was still progress.

To her avid disappointment, a knock came from the door again, followed by the entrance of nurse she mistook for a hippopotamus during the hours of her looniness. "Are you ready?" she asked flatly, sounding as if she didn't care either way. Nevertheless, Whitney grabbed her father's hand in a swift motion, communicating her raging fear through her sunken eyes.

"Everything...everything's alright. They'll take good care of you." he promised, brushing his hand across her hairline.

"You sure?" she clutched his hand even tighter.

Her father gave one more pat to her head. "If I wasn't, then I wouldn't let them do it."

With those comforting last words, Whitney released her father's hand as she was helped into the waiting wheelchair by the nurse, and was promptly wheeled away - out of the room, down the various halls and corridors, until they arrived at a room she vaguely remembered. An operating table was placed at the center of the room, complimented by an array of medical machines that created loud noises for the sole purpose of frightening her. Around the table were approximately three people dressed in surgical clothing. She swallowed hard several times while they delicately transferred her from the wheelchair to the table, and as soon as she was laying across it, she rubbed her sweaty palms atop the cool metal, feeling herself grow more nervous by the second. She didn't know how it would play out, how long she would be bedridden, or even how much it would hurt. But with bravery came sacrifice, that she knew, and she wasn't afraid of it. Sacrifice was good, in a way, it could help her be the person that was best for everyone around her: strong, humble, and compassionate. She thought she had reached that point before, but now, Whitney realized she had only scratched the surface. Even if she couldn't walk, she could give back, to all the people she knew and loved, especially Tony.

After all, she owed her life to him.

* * *

**See? Virtually nothing happened. I'm mad at myself right now, but, it'll pass. I hope. Anyway, a virtual hug to each and every one of you, and thank you so much for reading! **


	23. Chapter 23: Thin Ice

**A/N: Sorry for being gone for so long, first of all. One: Speech and Debate is entering the last circuit, and things start getting insane around this time. But, good news is, I'll be finished very soon. **

**Well, moving on: needless to say, this chapter is much more dialogue driven than the last. I have no idea why, since my dialogue stinks worse than ripe Limburger cheese. Ah, but anyway, it's good practice, right?**

**Also, one more thing before I leave you alone, the second part is written in true ominescent, instead of the multiple point of view third I've been doing. Just a fair warning, 'cause I needed the practice. 'Cause I'm awful at it. Plus, it's super fun!**

* * *

"Guilty by reason of insanity?" Dalton repeated, his eyebrow still raised in amusement. He barely suppressed a condescending chuckle, "Just what, exactly, qualifies me as being insane?"

"Look, I'll be frank," the lawyer unclasped his briefcase, removing a black portfolio from inside. "You nearly killed a sixteen-year-old girl, at the time. She was in the hospital for over a week. In my humble opinion, and from what I've overheard, those were pretty...gruesome...injuries. Now, back to business, my head is on the chopping block unless I lessen your sentence, which will be for life unless we get some people to say you're crazy. Are you with me so far?" He laid the portfolio atop the counter on his side of the glass.

"Reasonably," Dalton answered with a bored exhale.

"Good," the lawyer plucked out a pair of glasses from his inside coat pocket. "Okay, now is there anything you want to get off your chest before you tell the police? Just as a precaution," he placed the spectacles over his nose, pushing them up to his eyes.

Dalton released another contemptuous sigh. "No."

"Alright," he flipped through his papers. "The death penalty is off the books in New York, no need to worry about that. Although, kidnapping is a federal offense, definitely need to worry about that. What was it? That's it, they're allowing a service dog in the courtroom, but, I'll appeal it." The lawyer thought aloud, which annoyed Dalton to no end.

"What for?" he inquired, hoping to save himself from the other man's mindless ramblings.

"Gaining sympathy for the witness," the lawyer responded rather nonchalantly, as if he had no concern, while flipping through the many papers that resided within his portfolio.

Dalton folded his hands, "Now you tell me. Judging by the state of your clothes, If you're not appointed by the state, who sent you here?"

"Confidential," the lawyer replied with a straight face.

"I see," he lifted an eyebrow. "Interesting."

"Either way, I think it would be in both our interests to...inquire, about...Whitney Stane's mental condition. Just to delay things a bit. We could even knock out several charges as well. Ah, here it is." the lawyer pulled out a page from his portfolio, and began reading off it. "A recovering amnesiac, history of violent behavior, mother was an alcoholic, father was verbally abusive, a bunch of psychiatric nonsense, okay, well, I think I can make it work. Best case scenario, we get her shipped off to some mental institution in the Swiss Alps and be done with it," he glanced at the other side of the paper before replacing it inside his folder.

Dalton leaned forward, "Who's paying you to be here?"

"Confidential," the lawyer replied again, only fueling Dalton's curiosity, though he decided to snuff out his inquisitive thirst for the time being. "Anyway, due to the Double Jeopardy Clause, you can't be tried for murder again, so that's one less thing to worry about. Now, since you harmed a minor, that's an automatic five to ten years. And if whatever her name is's family decides to sue you in a civil court, you're skewered. I can't do anything about that. They can afford to carry on with the proceedings for years, maybe even decades if it goes that far, so be prepared to settle with them. Possibly for her medical treatment," he took in a breath, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the opening of a nearby door. Even though there were two, Dalton knew what it meant. And, oddly, he felt relieved. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued at the mention of his pet's medical treatments. Dalton wondered if he hurt her too terribly.

"Time's up, Mr. Harrison, if you please." Walsh squinted to see "Charlie" standing in the opposite doorway, flanked by two armed guards.

The lawyer huffed. "Just let me get my things," he requested, to which Charlie nodded in one swift movement. He collected his portfolio from the counter, and stuffed it back in his briefcase. Turning around to face him, the lawyer said, "I'm required to make a few more visits here."

"Good to know." Dalton countered in an acrid tone, though it didn't affect the man across from him.

"The trial is in two weeks." he informed as he clutched his briefcase, and headed out the door with Charlie at his heels.

The next instant, well before Dalton had any time for a sinister thought, the door nearest him opened, and from it entered the same guards who escorted him into the room, though he was ignorant of their names. Their authoritative aura did nothing to persuade him in following them, but the possibility of being transferred to a higher level detention area did. At nights, the Colorado cold could be unbearable, which was possibly the main reason they had underground cells. Getting up with a sharp inhale, he stalked over to the guards, and let them lead him back to the concrete laden cell. They adored concrete in that place.

The walk was filled with silence, but he expected nothing less, just the echoing thumps of feet against cement floors. However quiet or solemn it might have been, Dalton became haunted by the sheer remembrance flooding his memory. Harrison - that name sounded familiar, but he had no clue as to why. It was rather eerie, a hasty inundation of his mind, something he blocked out since his incarceration; he found it more helpful in the end. Of course, with an exception of a little reminiscing now and then, mostly since the medications the prison doctors were giving him caused his alternate personalities to merge, which naturally, was standard preparation for a trial. Or so he had been told. Mental competency had to be present, so he could understand the charges being put forth. Though he didn't care.

Once they reached his cell, the typical routine played out: the guards opened the vestibule, then after a few more steps forward, the steel bars. The heavy sounds of everything closing behind him sunk into his ears, and he plopped down on the hard concrete bed, contemplating over what he heard. It was a lot to digest. At least his pet would be there. He wondered how much she'd grown. At least he could see her. Maybe he wouldn't be able to touch her, but he could dream he could. Fantasizing never hurt anyone. In fantasy, she was his, and never left. No one was there to take her away, not even him. He wasn't there to hold her heart, her sanity, to keep her from breaking in half.

He imagined her bending, breaking, slowly, becoming his toy, something to release anger out on, with bruises spotted over her body like a leopard's pelt, her soft little eyes as sunken as a child's while she stared up at him. She was weak, malnourished, dirty and frightened. Like a mistreated dog. And it was fun. Wonderful fun. She was a mouse, a timid mouse, kept in the basement, purely for his amusement. A part of him wanted to use her, break her, make her suffer as he had. And she had, but not enough. It was never enough. But Dawson thought it was more than enough.

His stupid brother, Dawson, wanted his sister. He was lonely. So, so lonely. No matter what Dalton did to silence him, he stayed, encroaching on him and his main personality. Dawson was scared, it was dark and cold, and he wanted out. He wanted Cassidy. He would take her away. That mean man took her away from him, and he probably kept her in a dark place too, because he was mean. The mean man hurt her, his Cassidy, he hurt her so much she couldn't walk. The mean man wasn't going to hurt his sister and get away with it; he'd rescue her from the awful place, and take her home, where she belonged.

Then, they could play, and play, and play, with no one to take her away from him. They all hurt his sister. But she was too sweet. He loved his sister. He loved her so, so much. And they were hurting her, his sister, they struck her over and over again, and she cried and cried, but he was the only one who heard her. He tried to stop them, he tried his hardest, but as soon as he got to her, she was already dying. She died in his arms, gasping, her precious face marred by their fists. It was a terrible day.

Nonetheless, his sister wasn't dead, he saw her on the streets, and then he had to take her back. He had to. However, throughout their time together, Cassidy continued to act quite strangely, she even looked scared of him. She was probably scared because of what happened to her, his poor sister, but he would find her again. Dalton was going to see her, but he wasn't going to hurt her, he was going to do something he didn't like. Cassidy would be there, too. So, he would take control, and see if his sister was alright. Just look at her a bit, only to make sure. There was nothing he could do either way - the mean man might even take good care of little Cassidy. It wasn't as if he could care for her in this condition.

Whatever it took, he was going to see his sister, because Cassidy couldn't stay in a dark place ever again.

x-x-x

Tony was sure of only one thing: he wanted out of that hospital, now.

Whitney needed him, he knew she did, and the guilt continued to pierce his heart like a knife, draining out every inch of his mind. He couldn't think, not without her, he had to know if she was okay. No one could understand just how much conviction he felt, not even his friends who were with him now in the early hours of the morning. There was no way around it, no up or down; he couldn't get away from the fact that it was his reprehensible error that caused her condition. If only he had waited for someone, anyone more experienced than him to take care of her, then she wouldn't have the type of injury she did. The wound wasn't deep enough, it couldn't have nicked her spine. He caused it. He made it worse. He was the one to blame, and no amount of "It wasn't your fault" could remedy that. Now, perhaps if he was firm enough, his friends would leave him alone.

"Look, I'm fine." he insisted to both his friends, who had taken the responsibility of guilting him into sleeping, but he continued to resist. "I can handle it."

"Yeah, sure," Rhodey indulged his sarcastic side. "It's not like you can barely stand anyway."

"I don't wanna hear the guilty speech, Rhodey, I'm fine." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling that migraine building up again.

"I'm not giving you a guilty speech," Rhodey pressed, with Pepper shifting her feet beside him. "I'm telling you that what you're doing to yourself, we don't like it. And Whitney wouldn't like it either."

"What am I doing to himself that Whitney wouldn't like?" he crossed his arms.

His brother shook his head in disappointment. "You're not sleeping, you're not eating, and-" It was obvious Rhodey was about to begin a brotherly rant when Pepper yanked on his arm, pulling him to the other side of the room before he even had time to yelp in surprise. Tony uncrossed his arms, staring at them in curiosity as they whispered in fervor about something he wanted to know. After talking for a while amongst themselves, his best friends walked back over to their previous positions.

"Okay, lemme start over." Rhodey breathed in. "We know it's hard with Whitney and everything."

Pepper nodded. "It's been hard on us, too. I mean, she's like a sister, and it has to be awful for you since...you know, you two are like, inseparable." she choked out a laugh, most likely to lighten the mood.

Tony rubbed his eyes. "Don't ever get a girlfriend, Rhodey, it's the worst thing that can happen to you. Trust me."

"By the way things are going, I don't think that'll be a problem." Rhodey smiled in a comical way, successfully creating a friendlier atmosphere in the room. Almost.

He wiped off the sweat from his hands on his knees. "I'm just worried about her. It should be me." Tony dipped his head, lost in thought.

"Don't say that," Pepper uttered in a soft tone.

"It's true!" Tony's eyes displayed the emotional affliction burning inside him that he kept locked up for her. "Come on, you two know she doesn't deserve what happened to her. I should've protected her, I...it's my fault. She-she never did anything to deserve that. Sure, she was pretty troubled, well, more than that, but nothing to...the first time...all those bruises..." his voice trailed off as images from that day echoed in his mind, tormenting and squeezing his heart until he couldn't take it. His mental state on that very hour pricked him all over again: the rage, the pain, everything rushed through him one more time. He remembered how it felt to realize that she wasn't untouchable, that no matter how hard he tried to protect her, something would always slip passed him. It was a repeat of times before, and it was too much, even for Iron Man. "I could've stopped it." Tony continued, rubbing his hand with another. "She saved me, twice, from getting hurt. She crawled, with her hands tied behind her back, just because of me. All all I could do was sit there," Tony's nose wrinkled in rage, "While she got hit over and over and over again." He silenced a sob forming in his throat, and closed his eyes. "Everyone around me's cursed."

It took a brief moment before anyone spoke (or even could) again, but Rhodey collected his thoughts first. "You did everything you could," he muttered lowly.

His eyes reopened, with a mist clouding them. "But I'm responsible for everything that happened. I...could have saved her from it. I could've saved them all." Tony rubbed over his knuckles next, a warmth forming on his side, reflecting the subtle heat around him when Whitney curled up there. But instead of a glow, it burned. He missed the affection of her touch, her hand gently intertwined with his, and the soft tones of her airy voice. She was so sunny and cozy, like a blanket given to a baby, comforting in every sense of the word. Even though he didn't quite know how he'd face her, Tony missed her, terribly.

"Whitney is the last person who would want you to feel responsible for anything, believe me." Pepper shook her head tenuously, and pressed a hand over her heart, emphasizing her words.

Rhodey bent his head to Tony's level, "If she sees you like this...it'll crush her."

"At least sleep a little bit," Pepper asserted.

"I can't. I tried." Tony squeezed his eyes shut, "It always takes a little while, then, she's gone. They're all gone," he reopened his eyes.

Pepper pressed her lips together, a sure sign she was deep in thought. Then, her eyes brightened. "We're Team Iron Man, aren't we?" she glanced at both of her friends. "And no one's been able to stop us yet, right? So we can't let some old creep stop us now." With a bright smile on her face, Pepper nodded in a defiant motion.

"I can't help it." Tony countered his friend's selfless words. "I promised I'd never, ever hurt her, and now...she's been hurt too many times. I hurt all of them."

"That's why you're upset?" Rhodey asked for confirmation.

"Maybe you can talk to her." Pepper lightened her voice.

"Maybe," he shrugged, diverting his gaze. "But not them."

Rhodey huffed in frustration, and reflexively checked the time on his watch. As he did so, his eyes went wide, and he turned to Pepper with a look of alarm. "Oh man, if we don't get to school, Mom is gonna string me up and hang me by my toes! Sorry, dude, but you know how my mom is. She'll cream me." he apologized quickly.

Tony put up his hands. "I'm just glad I don't have to go."

Rhodey nodded with one swift motion, and grasped Pepper's wrist, jerking her out of the room. But she did have time to shout, "We'll bring you the homework!" before she left.

Tony's face darkened with exasperation at her words. "Like this day couldn't get any worse."

He laid back down on the bed, feeling his chest tightening once more; both from nearly being drowned, and from grief. He couldn't stand just lying there, helpless, while she continued to suffer hour after hour, and he wasn't there to comfort her. And he caused it all. He learned out of painful mistakes that Whitney required someone to stand beside her; too many people considered her as their personal verbal punching bag. Though she took it all with grace and dignity, he could tell when she was down. That occurred quite often, to their misfortune. She would snap at people, keep her head down, or in essence, feel like a worthless sack of potatoes until something cheered her up. Most of the time, it was him. He could make her laugh and smile, almost effortlessly some days. But how could he console her now?

Tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked them back, thoughts mixed with memories zooming through his head like drag racers, determined to bump him off the track. An invisible track. No one else could see it, but all along, he traveled with her on that roadway. But now, she was missing, and it threw his whole equilibrium off balance. The support beams had to be perfect, centered, upright, or else the tower came crumbling down, like it currently was.

He felt helpless; he hated that feeling. It recurred and recurred, so much it was sickening. His churning stomach proved that. Letting a groan escape his lips, Tony squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted it to stop; he wanted to see her, help her, do something instead of acting like a useless idiot. It was his fault, he needed to apologize - to own up to his inexcusable action. Hopefully, he could plead for her forgiveness, and she wouldn't disbar him from her life.

Tony inched himself up to a sitting position, seething as he pressed a hand over his heart. She was suffering far more than he was, and ever will.

Meanwhile, as Tony wallowed in his misery, Rhodey tried to find a decent time for conveying a situation. A situation he greatly wished he wasn't in, and quite possibly amplified by the lie he told moments ago.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping his gaze planted to the linoleum below, and strived for words that never seemed to reveal themselves. They needed help. She needed help. This was, perhaps, even too big a task for Iron Man and War Machine. Earlier that morning, was when the penny decided to drop. He nearly choked on his cereal. The increased, organized, activity - he should have known, yet it avoided stirring his suspicions for months.

Sucking in a deep breath, Rhodey decided to take a leap of faith. "We need to talk," he pushed the words through his teeth, then inwardly winced at their forcefulness. They sounded much different inside his head.

"Sure. What's up?" Pepper stepped into sync with him.

Rhodey released a bubble of air. "I think it's better if we keep it to ourselves for a while. I don't think Tony's ready for something like that yet."

"Yeah, he seemed sorta, I don't know, distant, I guess," she shrugged. However, after Rhodey had turned from her, to continue his own thoughts, Pepper tapped his arm to achieve his attention. She won it. "You think he feels guilty? He sounded that way to me, anyway." Pepper looked at him. "And I mean really, really, really guilty. As in like you bend the rug at the top of the stairs then your mom falls down and breaks her hip guilty."

"Definitely. He blamed himself for his mom, his dad, and now Whitney." he threw up his hands, and let them slap back down on his knees.

"Poor Tony. It's like a whole loop thingy that keeps going around around like a broken record." Pepper shook her head, and opened her pink pouch for a piece of candy, and placed it in her mouth. "Is there something we can do for him? I mean, he looks so sad." her voice was muffled due to her chewing. "I'm not saying its the biggest problem here, but New York might blow up to smithereens with just War Machine crushing the bad guys." Once she realized the unintended nature of her words, Pepper halted her stride, and twisted her head to face a curious glitter in Rhodey's eyes. She swallowed the candy, whole, and hunched her shoulders, "No offense."

"None taken. Well, he's gotta stop obsessing over her for one thing." Rhodey sighed as they strolled out the front door.

"What do you mean by that?"

"There's a big difference between being worried about somebody, and obsessing over them. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for him, sure, anybody that can get Tony to actually comb his hair and take a shower has got to be awesome. I just think he's scared."

"Well, duh." she mumbled, but after a questioning look from Rhodey, she relented from her sarcasm. "Sorry! Continue."

"Thanks," Rhodey retorted. "What I mean is, he's blaming himself for not protecting her, right? So, naturally, he's scared he's gonna lose her, too."

Pepper shifted her hazel gaze to the concrete sidewalk, a billion separate scenarios zooming through her hyperactive mind. She inched her hands up her arms to squeeze her elbows in a self-comforting gesture, now trying to remove those billion ideas from her brain. They wouldn't go away. The bustle of the city around them seemed to quiet down, and Pepper began to hear the blood rush through her ears. She despised that sound almost as much as she did long-legged spiders. "I just hope it doesn't get worse," she burst out, and the annoying sound disappeared - replaced again by the noises of the city streets.

However, when she examined Rhodey's face more closely, Pepper realized the extent of his seriousness. There was something in his eyes, be it pain or sadness, but whatever it was...it scared her.


End file.
